


Paper Moon, Lead Balloon

by Fancy Lads Snacks (Filthy_Bunny)



Series: Paper Moon, Lead Balloon [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Canon Divergent, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Love/Hate, Major plot spoilers, Marriage Proposal, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 115,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Fancy%20Lads%20Snacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elder Maxson makes a perfectly reasonable and strategically sound marriage proposal, and doesn't quite know what to do when it is rejected. </p><p>--- </p><p>(Inspired by <a href="http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6855.html?thread=16773319#t16773319">this</a> stunning prompt at the Fallout kinkmeme, and the suggestion a couple of comments down about Maxson being Mr Darcy. Thank you anons for your terrible influence on me.)</p><p>(Behold this beautiful <a href="http://ruewalker.tumblr.com/image/144976385638">title design</a> by the super-talented <a href="http://ruewalker.tumblr.com">Rue Walker</a>!)</p><p>(Also <a href="http://40.media.tumblr.com/3d0d400b133c70ba4a9ad3bd0d24c932/tumblr_o1qg3yyxnH1u5hay9o1_500.jpg">here</a> is an image I made to accompany this story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Joanna had sworn on her first day out of the Vault that she would never take anything for granted ever again. Life after the bombs was unimaginably cruel, and after weeks of bare survival she had almost sobbed with relief when she first boarded the Prydwen. Her clothes stayed dry. The toilets had seats. She could take a meal or a nap without fear of anyone attempting to murder or eat her. Sure, the smell everyone complained about was inescapable, but most of the Commonwealth stank like one kind of rot or another. She had treasured her time on the ship ever since for these little luxuries.

Still, there was a bitter aftertaste to her mess hall noodles that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with why the Prydwen was here in the first place. War. Its presence was like a crackle of ozone in the air, permeating every aspect of life on the vessel. Joanna could see it in the sure stride of soldiers walking the corridors, smell it in the power armour grease streaking their faces. Hear it in the latest round of synth dick jokes tossed around over dinner. This was not what she’d expected when she had first found Danse’s unit fighting for their lives in Cambridge. Sure, Danse saw the world in black and white, but his views had made more sense to her then. Plus Danse really wasn’t the type for dick jokes.

“Initiate,” a voice at her shoulder said. Speak of the devil.

“Evening, Paladin,” she replied. “Care to join me?”

“No time, I’m afraid,” Danse said. “Elder Maxson wants to speak with you in his quarters.”

Joanna glanced from him to her noodle bowl and back. “I don’t suppose it can wait until I’ve finished eating?”

Danse scowled. “No it can’t. Look, he’s been asking a lot of questions about you, so I’m certain this must be about your promotion. Be sure to present yourself as well as possible.”

Joanna smiled at the way he clucked over her. She half expected him to dab at her face with a napkin. She took one last mouthful and pushed her bowl to the side. “You may as well finish these,” she said, and got to her feet. “But if I do get promoted, you’re buying me a drink later.”  

“Consider it done.”

Joanna gave him a mock salute as she headed for the exit. She didn’t share Danse’s confidence or his enthusiasm about gaining a rank. Maxson had seemed hesitant about her from the start despite the promise she had shown in the field. It had taken some convincing for him to agree that she should accompany Danse on the upcoming expedition into the Glowing Sea. Now she feared he was about to retract that permission. He was a shrewd man; perhaps he sensed her ambivalence about the Brotherhood’s ethic. What was it Danse loved to say... _There’s Brotherhood and there’s everything else, nothing in between._ Maybe Joanna was too _in between_ for Maxson’s liking.

A pair of young Knights moved aside for her in the corridor, nodding a greeting as she passed. She smiled in return. Everyone aboard was curious about her, and while they had all been friendly, or at least polite, she had picked up on their wariness too. It made sense. Trust had to be rationed carefully in this world.

She smoothed her hands over her jumpsuit as she approached the open door to Maxson’s room. It wasn’t unheard of for him to conduct meetings in his private quarters, but this was the first time she had been summoned there alone. Maxson stood inside with his back to her, flipping through some documents on his desk as Joanna stood in the threshold. She was never quite sure how to carry herself when she was around him; all this rigid formality went against her grain. She was a cop, not a soldier. She put her hands behind her back, choosing to mimic his usual posture.

“Elder Maxson?”

He closed the file and turned to face her with a curt nod. “Initiate Mayes.”

Maxson certainly had presence. The man could practically burn a hole through you with his eyes. Despite his youth, she could understand why he had risen through the ranks so quickly. She’d seen men with that kind of fearsome drive go far in the police force, too—the few who didn’t get burned out along the way.

“Thank you for attending so promptly. Please, come inside and close the door.” Once she had done so, Maxson gestured to a seat at the table. “Take a seat.”

Joanna obliged, though a distant alarm bell was sounding in her mind. This was different to the other meetings she had attended.

He didn’t speak for a moment, just fixed her with that frowning glare. His default expression was a frown, which deepened depending on how angry or impassioned he was. Scribe Haylen had once confided to Joanna that no one had seen Maxson smile since he was thirteen years old. She could believe it.  There was a time when he would have intimidated her. A time before cannibals and rain that blistered her skin and mutated giants that could throw rocks far enough to knock a Vertibird from the sky. Nowadays a charismatic man wasn’t enough to scare her. His endgame for the Commonwealth might, though.

“Would you care for a drink?”

This was getting odder by the second. Joanna eyed the crystal decanter and two glasses set on the table between them. Maxson’s glass already contained a generous slug of whisky. The warm, sweet smell of it was incredibly tempting. But caution won out.

“No, thank you.”

Maxson nodded, but didn’t reply. She wished he’d at least sit down.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked at last.

He cleared his throat. “I wish to discuss... your future within the Brotherhood, Initiate.” Not like him to hesitate over his words. “It has been made clear to me since we first met that you have a great deal to offer the Brotherhood of Steel. And yet I have not promoted you beyond the rank of Initiate, despite Paladin Danse’s recommendation. You must be wondering why that is.”

Yes, she’d wondered. Joanna didn’t care one way or the other about rank as long as she got the help she needed, but if playing the Brotherhood’s game was the way to go, then so be it. She considered her answer carefully. “Perhaps because of my allegiance to the Minutemen?”

The frown deepened in confusion. “No, that’s not it. The Minutemen are an undisciplined rabble with worthy dreams but no means to pursue them. The Brotherhood has a great deal more to offer you than that. However, the work you have done with the group has not escaped my notice. In securing and developing new settlements, you have demonstrated compassion and commitment to the citizens of the Commonwealth.”

She raised one eyebrow. Only an arrogant son of a bitch like Maxson could praise the Minutemen and utterly dismiss them in the same breath. She felt her pulse quicken in preparation for an argument, and bit her tongue to keep from replying.

Maxson wandered a few paces towards the door. One hand dipped under his coat, rubbing absently below his ribs. He wasn’t the type to fidget, and it only made Joanna more anxious.

“I can see why the Minutemen chose you as their leader. Likewise, it is clear why Paladin Danse sponsored you for initiation into the Brotherhood. I have spoken at length with the Paladin about your missions to date. I was... extremely impressed with what he had to say. You located Paladin Brandis and helped us to secure Fort Strong, which showed courage, skill and tenacity. You were a police officer before the war, correct?”

“Yes, sir. A detective.” 

“Intelligent and educated, too,” he said, nodding. He turned and paced back again. “Knight Captain Cade informs me that you are in excellent health.”

Jesus, just how many people had he quizzed about her? Joanna shifted in her seat.

“There is no doubt in my mind that you are worthy of the rank of Knight,” Maxson went on. “However, the reason I have not yet advanced you is because there is a... different role I wish for you to consider first.”

They fell into another awkward silence as Maxson stared at the floor. It was unbearable.

“What are you proposing?”

Maxson finally turned to face her, hands clasped behind his back. “I am proposing a partnership.” He shifted his weight a little. “A marriage, in fact.”

A moment passed as they regarded each other, Joanna waiting for Maxson to elaborate. He didn’t. “Between the Brotherhood and Minutemen?” she asked, perplexed. “A moment ago you thought we were nothing but a—”

“You misunderstand me,” Maxson cut in abruptly. He looked deeply uncomfortable, and she could not fathom why. Was it so shameful for him to ask for help? “Initiate Mayes, you would do me a great honour if you would agree to be my wife.”

It took another moment before the meaning of what he had just said penetrated her brain, and when it did, all she could do for several long seconds was stare at him. She would have thought it a joke if she had ever witnessed the faintest trace of humour in him. Eventually her tongue thawed and words flooded out.

“ _What_? Are you out of your mind?”

His brow furrowed even deeper. “I assure you I am in perfect command of my senses,” he replied. “However, I can see I have shocked you, so I apologise. Please allow me to explain my position.”

He cleared his throat and started to pace afresh. “As you are most likely aware, I am the last of my line,” he said, addressing the wall ahead of him rather than her. Joanna suspected he had rehearsed this part. “The Brotherhood was founded by Roger Maxson, and it has gone from strength to strength under the Maxson line. I need to ensure that continues after I am gone. And for that I need a worthy partner, someone strong and capable at my side to raise children within the ideals of the Brotherhood.”   

He continued to speak, but at that point Joanna no longer heard him over the roar of white noise in her ears. She stared at him as anger started to drip through the filter of her disbelief. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or scream. Instead she held her features in a mask of calm, the way she had learned to in the interview room.

“Let me get this straight,” she said when he finally fell silent. “You are asking me to marry you, because you need a uterus.”

She had never seen him trip over his words before, but he did now. “That’s a—I did not—That’s a very crass way of putting it,” he huffed. “This is a much more complex decision than you are—”

“Oh, that’s right. You want my strong, courageous, _well-educated_ uterus.”

“ _Initiate_ ,” Maxson snapped. A blush crept up his cheeks. “I am making a serious proposition. Please do not mock me.”

It was Joanna’s turn to be lost for words. Fury beat at her chest like a fist. She reached across the table for his glass and downed the contents in one. She gasped around the burn.

“Why now, in the middle of all this?” she blurted. “Aren’t you more concerned about finding the Institute?”

“If I chose to wait until the Brotherhood’s business was complete, I would be in my grave before the occasion presented itself. I am not a man to let an opportunity pass him by.”

“But why ask me?” she said. “Surely there are dozens of women in the Brotherhood who would jump at the chance to be Mrs Arthur Maxson. And would be far better suited to it than I am.”

Maxson gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “As Elder, I would prefer not to pursue such a relationship with a soldier within the ranks. Even with a new Initiate I find it somewhat... indecorous. However, given the circumstances, I chose to compromise by delaying your advancement until we could have this conversation.”  

“What happens if I refuse? Will I be thrown out?”

He looked insulted. “Of course not. If you choose not to accept my offer, everything I said about you earlier holds true. You would be promoted to the rank of Knight without question.” His face was still flushed, making the scar on his cheek stand out in starker contrast. He kept his eyes trained on her. “However, I would urge you to consider your response carefully. Think of all I have to offer you. I do not expect an answer immediately.”

She held his gaze, refusing to even blink. “I must decline your offer, Elder.”

Maxson’s jaw twitched. He gave a stiff nod. “As you wish,” he said. “May I at least request a reason?”

_How long have you got?_ Joanna ran the tip of her thumb along her wedding band.

“When we first met, I explained the circumstances of my presence here, did I not?” she said.

“You did.”

“Do you forget then, _sir_ , that I am grieving my murdered husband?” Her voice shook then, anger sending a tremor through her foundations. “Or that I already _have_ a son?”

Maxson had the decency to lower his head. He did not reply for a few seconds. He let go of the chair and took a step back. “Forgive me,” he said, voice low. “My request has offended you, and I regret that. It was certainly not my intention.”

It was an odd feeling, knowing that she had bruised the pride of the mighty Maxson. Despite her outrage at his arrogance, Joanna took no pleasure in his discomfort. She just wanted to get out of there.

Maxson stalked over to the door. “I would ask that you do not repeat the contents of this conversation to anyone.”

He opened the door and stood, waiting. Joanna rose from the table on legs that felt like cooked spaghetti.

“Elder,” she said on her way past.

“Initiate.”

Their eyes did not meet.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Joanna stormed back to the mess hall, almost sending Proctor Quinlan’s cat flying as he tried to dart past her feet. Danse was standing at the bar with a plate of iguana bits clutched in one huge armoured hand and a fork in the other. He had finished off her noodles, too.

He beamed when she appeared at his side. “So, am I buying you that drink?”

Joanna shook her head. “I need to get off this ship _right now_.”

Danse’s face fell. “What happened?”

“Your precious Elder has been relieved of his senses,” she said, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. “He just—Ugh. I can’t talk about it here.”

Danse looked around. There were only a few people around, none of whom seemed to be paying them any attention, but Joanna couldn’t be too careful.

“I’m going to suit up,” she muttered. “I’ll see you on the flight deck in five.”

She headed to the armour bay before he could argue, and retrieved her T-45 suit from its station. Maxson had made her a promise, but just in case his pride won out and he decided to exile her from the Brotherhood, she would be damned if they got to keep her power armour. This baby was hers. Using the suit had been a steep learning curve, but she knew all its quirks by now, and it had kept her alive more times than she cared to recall. She had hoped to make some minor repairs while she was on board. They would have to wait.

Danse was waiting for her on the flight deck. He stood and watched her as she flipped the catches that released the seal on her helmet and pulled it off. Lifesaver or not, she preferred not to have her head jammed in a bucket unless absolutely necessary.

“What’s this about, soldier?”

“Maxson—” God, she couldn’t even believe she was saying it. “He asked me to marry him.”

If Danse’s eyebrows had shot up any higher, they would have disappeared under that ridiculous hood he wore. His mouth worked like a goldfish for a moment, then he puffed out a short breath of surprise. “I... did not see that coming,” he said.

“Good, because if you had and you didn’t warn me, I’d be kicking you off the deck about now. Without your armour.”

“What did you tell him?”

“What do you think I told him? I told him no!”

She could see in the way he winced what was coming next. “You might want to calm down a little and think it through first,” he began.

“Danse,” she said, but he ignored the warning in her tone.

“A marriage proposal from the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel is a tremendous honour.”

“ _Danse_ ,” she snapped. “Just don’t. Please.”

He was smart enough not to argue this time. After watching her for a minute, he sighed. “All right. I can see you need some time to regroup. Might I suggest we head to the Castle? It’s close, and I can’t guarantee we’d get a ride any farther at this hour.”

“Sure. Anywhere but here.”

Joanna looked out over the darkened city while Danse trudged off to the nearest Vertibird to talk to the pilot. After a minute he called out and beckoned her over. They clambered on board and she waited for the stomach-lurching drop that came when the ’bird disengaged from the dock. Danse sat opposite her, fingers drumming against the square barrel of his rifle where it lay across his lap. Joanna watched moonlight hit the black waves below and tried to ignore the dark eyes boring into her. The Paladin was practically bursting to speak.

“You can’t deny that the two of you could achieve great things together,” he blurted out at last.

She clenched one metal fist and reminded herself not to vent her frustrations on him. “The things I want to achieve do not involve finding a new husband,” she replied.

The Vertibird started to descend then, to her relief. The pilot set them down on open ground near the approach to the Castle. As he took off again, Joanna glanced across the bay to the Prydwen, hanging above the wrecked airport like a bullet frozen in flight. Dim lights glowed along the ship’s belly.

She pictured Maxson in his quarters, sitting at his table with his cigars and his whisky, pondering whom next to bestow his unwanted advances upon. Perhaps he had a list. He was a brilliant tactician, after all; everyone told her so. She pictured him marking a neat line through her name with a pencil, frowning all the while, before summoning the next unwitting woman to his chamber. While the thought of him being rejected again gave her a certain sly satisfaction, she knew that would not be the case. If soldiers of the Brotherhood cried Maxson’s name in battle, he would surely meet no obstacle in finding one to cry it out in the marriage bed. No one would give a damn how _indecorous_ it was. He’d have a bride by the time the sun rose. Joanna snorted. Her suit creaked as she stomped up the rise to the Castle, Danse following behind.

*

Joanna was up with the sun the following morning, having lain awake most of the night in her bunk, rigid with indignation as the meeting with Maxson replayed over and over again in her mind. Eventually she had exhausted herself and sunk into sleep, but the noises of the Castle awakening above her hauled her out again before long.

Her private quarters consisted of a sparsely furnished room in the old tunnels underneath the fort. She scrubbed herself down with soap and icy water from the metal bucket in the corner, scowling at her reflection in the shard of mirror propped on a shelf on the wall. She’d been looking forward to taking a hot shower aboard the Prydwen. God damn Maxson.

She dressed quickly and climbed the stairs to the armoury. The sun was rising, picking out a patchwork of colours in the walls of the old fort as she crossed the courtyard. The Castle had come together fast in the weeks since they had retaken it. Rebuilding the ruins completely would take many months, but in the meantime the Minutemen had been hard at work cobbling over the gaps with whatever sheet metal and boards could be salvaged from the town below. A gate had been installed in the western wall, a huge thing welded together from sections of a rusted freight truck they had hauled up the hill. It lowered on chains like a drawbridge, which gave the effect of walking up a rust-coloured tongue into a gaping mouth. It was especially effective at night when the torches in the guard post above it were lit up like flaming eyes. The parts of Joanna that weren’t numb and weary could still appreciate that being in charge of her own castle was pretty damn cool.

Danse was already up and making use of the power armour station. The clang of metal on metal as he hammered a dent out of his suit could probably be heard on the Prydwen. Preston was up too, whistling to himself as he boiled water on the stove in the kitchen.

“Is my favourite Colonel making tea?” Joanna said from the doorway.

He turned and smiled in greeting. “Morning, General. There’s tea, _and_ mirelurk stew if you want it.”

“Hell yes, I want it.” She hadn’t eaten since her bowl of noodles had been so rudely interrupted the night before.

She helped herself to a bowlful of hot stew from an enormous pot on the stove and sat down at the nearest table. A minute later, a steaming cup was placed in front of her and Preston took the seat opposite hers.

She had gone straight to her quarters the night before, so they chatted over breakfast, getting her up to speed on news from around the settlements. She hadn’t been gone long, so there was nothing too significant. The radio comms were holding up well aside from a few glitches keeping in contact with Sanctuary. Oberland Station farm was still getting back on its feet after last month’s radstorm had all but wiped out the crops, so they continued to take in extra supplies from Graygarden, which put an added strain on the supply lines.

“Is everything all right with you?” Preston asked, peering in concern from beneath the brim of his hat. “You seemed upset last night.”

Joanna gave a dry laugh and blew on her tea. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

She sighed. The room was still empty, so it was safe to fill him in. “Elder Maxson... proposed marriage yesterday.”

Preston dropped his fork with a clatter. A chunk of mirelurk meat bounced off onto the floor. The cat would be happy. “He did _what_?!”

“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction.” She took a sip of tea and launched into her story. Preston listened, making encouragingly outraged noises at regular intervals.

“Wow,” he said when she’d finished. He leaned back in his seat. “Does Danse know?”

“Yes. I told him. He’d love it, of course. He’d be the first one to throw confetti.”

Preston shook his head slowly. “Well, I won’t say I _told_ you not to get involved with the Brotherhood, but... I sort of did.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I guess this gives you an excuse to distance yourself from them though, right?”

“You know I can’t. I have my reservations about them, but for the most part we want the same things.”

“They want war.”

She rubbed her weary eyes. “I know. And I won’t help them destroy what we’ve built. But I need them to help me find Virgil. They’re still my best hope of getting to Shaun.”

She didn’t often talk about Shaun. Most people didn’t know about him at all; it seemed safer that way. She already regretted telling Maxson so much. Even among her trusted friends, the ones who knew the full story—Preston, Valentine, Piper, Danse—she spoke of her son rarely. Saying his name brought her too close to opening up the gulf of grief and fear inside her. She couldn’t afford to tumble into that void, not yet. She kept her focus on finding the Institute instead, reminding herself time after time that if they had kept Shaun alive for ten years then he was surely in no mortal danger now.

“Aren’t you worried that he’ll... you know. Hold that over you?”

Joanna looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Would Maxson exchange his help for what he wants?”

“Holy shit.” The blood drained from her face. The thought had never occurred to her. “You really think he’d do that?”

“I don’t know. I never met the man. Do _you_ think he would?”

“God. I don’t know. He said he’d accept whatever answer I gave him, but he’s a very determined man. And hard to read. No, surely it wouldn’t come to that. He’ll have no trouble finding someone else.”

“Is it worth asking Danse?”

“Asking Danse what?” said a voice behind her. Joanna turned in her seat to see the Paladin eyeing them suspiciously from the doorway as he wiped grease from his hands with a rag.

“What to wear for my wedding,” she replied. “White or ivory?”

His hands stopped moving. “You’ve... reconsidered?”

The poor guy looked so hopeful. Joanna smiled. “Sorry, Danse. You really need to learn what my sarcastic face looks like.”

He scowled. “It looks the same as your regular face. That’s the problem.” He glanced at Preston. “You told him?”

“Yes, I did. He’s my friend. As are you. And like you, he won’t tell anyone. Isn’t that right?”

Preston chuckled. “Just don’t tell Piper, it’ll be on the front page of _Publick Occurrences_.”

Danse tucked the rag into a pocket in his jumpsuit. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. I would have thought you’d be flattered.”

“ _Flattered_?” She couldn’t believe she had to explain this to him. Then again, she had the feeling Danse wasn’t well schooled in the art of romance. “How many people have you been involved with?”

Danse blushed, eyes darting back and forth between her and Garvey. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Look. Real flattery is when you make someone feel respected and appreciated. Like you see something beautiful in them. A man who barely even knows me just asked me to have babies with him. That is _not_ flattering. I may as well be a—I don’t know, a _test tube_.”

“I know for a fact that’s not true. Elder Maxson most certainly respects and appreciates you.”

“He appreciates what I could give him, Danse. That’s hardly the same thing.” She could feel her temper rising again at the very thought. “And what sort of a marriage starts out like some sort of business proposition, anyway?”

Danse shrugged. “A lot, actually. Most partnerships begin with two people who deem themselves compatible, looking to start a family together.”

“That’s just not true.” She turned to Preston, who had been watching their exchange in quiet amusement. “Is it?”

“Well, you know I’m on your side in this, General, but he does have a point there. Marriage these days probably isn’t quite the same as it was in your time.” He shrugged. “The population isn’t in great shape, and settlements are small. People often have to pair off with someone they don’t know so well. Take my parents, for example. My mother was an officer with the Minutemen, and my pa was one of their suppliers. They married because it benefited her outfit and his town. They loved each other, sure, but that probably took time.”

It made sense now he said it, but it seemed so depressing. She had married Nate for love. Pure, dizzying love. Perhaps even love was an extravagance nowadays. “Yeah, well, there isn’t that much time in the world for me and Maxson. And he still had no right to ask me. I’m not interested in marriage for any reason.” She drank the last cold dregs of her tea. “Plus I’m almost ten years older than him. Or two hundred and twenty years, depending on how you look at it.”

Danse arched an eyebrow. “Elder Maxson isn’t your typical twenty-year-old.”

“We can agree on _that_.” Danse and Preston were both smirking at her, and she had the distinctly unpleasant feeling that she was somehow losing this argument. She set her cup down loudly and got to her feet. “Anyway, don’t we have a mission to prep for? Let’s get suited up. I’m feeling the need to shoot something.”

Danse smiled. “Ready when you are, soldier.”


	3. Chapter 3

Once, when Joanna was a few months pregnant, she and Nate had taken the Metro down into old Boston and walked part of the Freedom Trail. They had strolled the sidewalks between banks of ploughed snow and stopped in front of Faneuil Hall to sit on a bench so she could rest her sore ankles. They had sipped coffee from paper cups and watched as the latest coach load of tourists crammed into the square, cooing reverently at the statue of Samuel Adams and the Hall itself, flapping their guide books and pointing cameras. She’d felt a warm pride in her city that day, seeing the people who had flocked in from other states, even other countries, to celebrate the rich history of the Cradle of Liberty.

She never imagined she would one day find herself perched on the roof of that same building, dressed in a robotic suit of armour, painstakingly peeling lead from the slate roof with the aid of a combat knife.

She could hear Danse stomping about in the street below and occasionally firing a short blast of his laser rifle, presumably into any still-twitching enemies. The place had mostly been cleared out by another Brotherhood unit earlier that day, but the gunfire had drawn more mutants to the location since, so they’d had a decent fight on their hands.

After a few minutes of quiet, Danse’s deep voice boomed up to her. “How’s it going up there?”

“Fine,” she hollered back. “Just let me finish this roll.”

She prised off another twelve inch strip and carefully folded the length into a fat roll, before dropping it into a mesh sack along with the rest. She slung it over one gigantic shoulder, craned her neck to whisper a hasty apology for her vandalism to the grasshopper still perched atop the weathervane, and made her way down the creaking scaffold propped against the side of the building. She found Danse in the square near the stone pedestal of the statue. Sam Adams himself was gone, long since hacked off at the shins and melted down for god knew what. Ammunition, most likely. Danse was crouched beside the green hulk of a supermutant corpse, sliding a vial of black-looking liquid into a canvas pouch. Glass clinked against glass as he wrapped the pouch and stowed it carefully in his pack.

“Think this’ll be enough?” she said, holding the bag out for him to see. He took it and tested the weight before nodding in approval.

“Good work, soldier. I have another... sixteen blood samples here, which makes thirty in total. Hopefully other units will have turned in plenty more in the meantime.”

Joanna glanced around the square. It was littered with dead mutants, spent shell casings and filth. The bench where she and Nate had held hands and drunk coffee now lay in a rotted heap under a shopping cart full of what looked like animal guts.

“I guess we’re done here, then?”

“Affirmative.” Danse stood and unclipped a signal grenade from the plating on his thigh. “Ready to head back to the Prydwen?”

 _No_ , she thought. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready to see Maxson again. She forced a determined smile.

“Absolutely.”

*

Ingram tipped the bag out onto a workbench and let out a long whistle. “Nice.” She picked up a piece and tested it between her armoured fingers. “This is almost pure. Where’d you find all this?”

“It’s roofing lead. I thought it would be quicker to locate and a lot simpler for you to process than collecting old batteries.”

“Good thinking, soldier. I hadn’t thought of that. Guess there aren’t many roofs left where I come from.”

“Will there be enough for both suits?”

“All this, plus what Lincoln’s unit already brought in? Yeah, I’d say it’s plenty.” She eyed the T-60 armour hanging in the station behind her. “This one’s almost done. I’ll need Danse to turn his suit over later so I can get to work on it.”

Joanna laughed. “He won’t like that.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll like it more than dying of rad poisoning in the Glowing Sea. He can borrow another suit for now.”

“It’s a little scary,” Joanna confessed. “We’ll be encased in one kind of deadly poison to protect us from another deadly poison.”

Ingram chuckled. “Don’t worry. The lead will all be sealed inside a flexible lining, similar to your uniform, but less permeable. So as long as you don’t start chewing on it, it’ll never come into contact with your body.”

“How long until it’s ready, do you think?” She saw Ingram’s raised eyebrow, and gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry, I just hate all the waiting.”

Ingram gave Joanna a curious look, but didn’t question her impatience. “End of the week, probably sooner. The lining will take me a few more days, and then I’ll need to recalibrate all the joints to compensate for the extra weight.” She looked over the T-60, frowning thoughtfully. “Maybe see what other modifications I can come up with. Of course, I have no idea know how long it’ll take Neriah to do her thing.”

Scribe Neriah and her team had been working on batch after batch of her X-111 compound ever since the mission to the Glowing Sea had first been announced. That was over two weeks ago now, when Joanna had first boarded the Prydwen and shared her information about Dr Virgil with the Elder. Finding the Institute was the Brotherhood’s top priority as well as her own, so Maxson had authorised the mission right away, but there was so much preparation involved that Joanna was all but bouncing off the walls.

There was no getting around it, of course. The trip would be their most hazardous yet. Understandably, no one had ventured into the area and returned to tell the tale. There were no maps. Not even Vertibirds could dare enter due to the violent storms. They had no idea what to expect other than sweltering levels of radiation. Joanna knew there was a very real chance the mission could kill them. If they were to be prepared for the very worst the wasteland could throw at them, they needed protective gear and supplies. Neriah’s serum was particularly troublesome to produce, especially in the quantities Joanna and Danse would need for what could be a two-week-long trek into hell and back. They must have fetched the Scribe litres of blood samples by now, which had at least kept them busy, along with their other missions.

While Ingram tinkered with the new suit lining, Joanna wandered along the row of power armour stations. One particularly impressive suit towards the end of the row caught her eye. It was so well buffed it gleamed silver under the lights.

“Don’t touch that,” Ingram said sharply.

Joanna froze with her fingers stretched out toward the armour like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Ingram wasn’t even looking at her. “Sorry, Proctor.”

Ingram shook her head. “No, it’s all right. That suit’s just a little out of your league, no offence.”

Joanna didn’t recognise the symbol on the left forearm. It was similar to the Paladin crest on Danse’s armour, but with a diamond shape in place of the sword. “Whose is it? Elder Maxson’s?”

“No. His is the one on the end.” She pointed with the handle of a screwdriver to a set across the room. It was not unlike Danse’s, though less battle-worn. That was hardly surprising. Still, it wasn’t as showy as Joanna would have expected. From the reverent way people talked about Maxson, she wouldn’t put it past them to clad him all in gold. Maybe with a cape for added flair.

“That one’s in front of you is nobody’s,” Ingram went on. “We don’t have a Sentinel in this chapter at present.”

Joanna would have asked more, but at that moment Danse arrived back from dropping off the blood samples at the science labs.

“Proctor,” he said, nodding to Ingram. He turned to Joanna and clapped his hands together. His excitement was palpable now he was certain she would be made Knight. “All set?”

She withered a little inside. She had never dreaded receiving a promotion before, but then again she’d never had to show her face to a superior the day after he had awkwardly proposed to her, either. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.

They headed for the exit, but Ingram called after them.

“Paladin,” she said in a chiding voice. “Aren’t we forgetting something?” She pointed her screwdriver at his suit.

He looked crestfallen. “Can’t it wait until after the briefing?”

“Out. Now. It won’t kill you to be the same height as everyone else for a half hour. Come on, I’ll have another set prepped for you by the time you’re done.”

Danse grudgingly obliged. He was still tall out of his power armour, but at least Joanna didn’t have to tilt her head back as far to look at him. The two of them continued to the command deck.

Maxson was waiting the same way he always was, his perfectly straight back turned to them, hands clasped at the base of his spine. It gave Joanna a moment longer to prepare herself. She stood to Danse’s right and a couple of steps behind, as seemed befitting of their respective ranks. Danse announced their arrival in his clear baritone.

“Elder Maxson.”

Maxson turned. “Paladin. Initiate.” His gaze passed from Danse to Joanna, as cool and professional as ever. Their conversation the night before might never have happened. She trained her eyes on the window before her and kept her chin high.

“The preparations for your next mission are moving along well. I am told we can expect to mobilise by the end of the week. Tomorrow morning I will hold a meeting with the Proctors and Head Scribe Neriah to discuss the logistics and mission brief in more detail. You are both invited to attend. After that, you are both granted four days’ leave to rest and prepare yourselves. Make sure you are well fed, fit, and caught up on sleep. You’ll need to be in peak physical and mental condition for this mission.” He paused. “For now, though, I have the honour of bestowing a new rank.”

Joanna swallowed and steeled herself to make eye contact.

“Paladin Danse. Step forward.”

Joanna couldn’t see Danse’s face, but she could tell from his posture that Maxson had caught him by surprise, too. He obeyed without question, of course.

“In light of your recent accomplishments with Recon Squad Gladius, which paved the way for the Prydwen’s safe passage to the Commonwealth, and your outstanding service to the Brotherhood of Steel, I hereby confer the rank of Senior Paladin.”

Danse’s drew himself up almost as tall and rigid as he was in his armour. He pressed a fist to his breastbone in salute. “Thank you, sir.” He spoke loud and clear despite the tremble in his voice. “It’s been an honour to serve you.”

“Good to have you back in the fold, soldier.”

Maxson’s brows lifted a little, in what could almost be—wait, a _smile_? Joanna stared in amazement. No, it wasn’t a smile, because it didn’t touch his lips. But there was a warmth in his expression that she had not seen before. It occurred to her for the first time that the two had been friends. Perhaps still were. Danse certainly spoke glowingly of Maxson, but he was so formal that she had always interpreted it as loyalty rather than affection. She would have to grill him about it later.

Maxson returned Danse’s salute, and nodded once. Danse stepped back into place.

“Initiate Mayes. Step forward, please.”

Danse turned to look at Joanna, and she knew the pride in his eyes was for her as well as himself. He gave her a quick wink as she stepped closer to Maxson.

She tucked her arms neatly behind her. “Sir.”

“You have shown great aptitude in the field and brought invaluable information and assets to our attention. It is therefore my honour and my pleasure to proffer to you the rank of Knight. Welcome to the Brotherhood of Steel.”

Joanna saluted. “Ad victoriam, Elder.” She said it as much for Danse as anything. Today was probably the happiest he had been in a long while, and she was glad to be a part of that. But she also couldn’t deny that her chest had swelled a little in the moment. Maxson was a captivating leader, she would grant him that.

“Report to Scribe Jennings for your holotags at your earliest convenience.” He nodded to her, and she glimpsed that almost-smile again for the briefest of moments before he turned back to Danse. “Congratulations, soldiers. You’re dismissed.”

Joanna was following Danse to the door when Maxson halted her.

“Knight Mayes, a moment, please.”

She froze for a moment before turning back to face him. _Don’t spoil this now_ , she urged him silently. “Yes, Elder?”

He walked towards her, his boots almost silent on the steel floor. “Regarding the operation in the Glowing Sea,” he said, looking down at his toes. “My earlier advice still stands. I have other soldiers more experienced in these types of conditions than you. It’s not too late to select someone else.”

It had taken her first two missions to convince him that she should be the one to accompany Danse in the first place. She had understood his caution then; she was fresh meat, an unknown quantity. But she had proven her worth, and now he still wanted to take it from her. Her pulse quickened. This went far beyond just pride.

“You don’t have anyone else who wants this mission to succeed as much as I do, sir.”

He lifted his eyes to hers and watched her for a moment. “No, I probably don’t.”

“So please understand that I am determined to go. I will do whatever it takes to find Virgil and get the information that I—” She caught herself a beat too late. “That _we_ need. Sir.”

He nodded, but didn’t reply.

“I hoped I had proven myself capable by now, sir.”

“You have, Knight.”

Joanna spoke carefully. “So, with respect, is this really about my experience, or about the other issue we discussed recently?”

He turned away from her then, so she couldn’t tell if he was angry, embarrassed or indifferent. “I won’t lie,” he said after a moment. His voice was low, probably for the sake of privacy. There was no door to close here. “The Glowing Sea is not a place I would willingly allow a consort of mine to venture into.”

The word _consort_ took her aback. It sounded so formal, regal even, and yet his voice when he said it, softer than usual, turned it into something intimate. She opened her mouth to argue that she was not his consort, or his anything else, but he beat her to it.

“But since you have made your answer on that matter quite clear, my personal feelings are of no relevance.” He straightened and turned back to face her. “Very well. Paladin Danse will lead this mission, and you will provide support. Dismissed, Knight.”

Although she had got what she wanted and there was no need for further discussion, Joanna felt dissatisfied. She wanted to argue her point. Ask him what his damn problem was, why he had to complicate things, why he couldn’t just treat her like any other one of his soldiers. 

His eyes scanned her face, and she was suddenly aware that she had probably never stood so close to him before. Not improperly close, but close enough for her to notice little details she hadn’t before. The coarse texture of his beard. The notches left by every individual stitch in the deep scar on his cheek. Another scar, above his left eyebrow.

Maxson’s eyebrows pinched together in a frown. “ _Dismissed_ , Knight.”

Joanna nodded and walked away without another word.


	4. Chapter 4

Resting. She was supposed to be resting. Joanna lifted the corner of the bandana wrapped around her face and dabbed at her stinging eyes. She wondered if she would ever rest another day in her life.

Footsteps pounded along the road behind her. “General!” a voice panted. She turned her back to the blazing house to see a man and woman she didn’t recognise, wearing rusted armour over work wear. The Minutemen insignia was stencilled on their chest plates. “I’m Hollis, this is Redfern,” the man said. “Blake Abernathy sent us up to lend a hand as soon as he heard. Where d’you need us?”

She nodded to them and tugged the bandana down over her chin. “Thank you for coming. Every extra hand helps.” she said. She pointed down the hill to the river, where Preston and Sturges were wrestling with a length of ragged hose. “First thing we need to do is put out this fire. Could you give those two a hand getting the pump going?”

She turned back just as Codsworth sailed out of the house through the glassless window, dragging a singed canvas bag that was snagged on the hinge in one of his arms.

“There are more supplies trapped inside, mum. I may be able to reach them. Shall I return?”

“No, it’s too dangerous. I can’t risk losing you in there. Get those guns down to the guards at the gate.”

“As you wish, mum.”

Joanna jogged down the hill to help the others. Between herself, Preston, Sturges and the girl from Abernathy Farm, they uncoiled the hose up the incline from the river.

“Where’d you get this hose, anyway?” Joanna called to Sturges as they worked.

“Had a fire down by the clubhouse a few weeks back,” he replied. “Nothing serious, just got a little, ah, careless with the ol’ barbecue. But it got me thinking how we’d tackle something bigger. Can’t afford to waste the purified water on putting out fires. So I designed a new pump and put this together out of a bunch of rubber tubing they had at Red Rocket. I’ll warn you, though, it’s full of holes. Not sure it’ll hold together.”

Joanna looked down at the thick snake of tubing in her arms. It was as much duct tape as rubber. “Guess we’re about to find out,” she said with forced cheer. “Preston, there’s still live ammunition in there. It might go up. Be careful.”

Sturges waved an arm above his head to the young man waiting on the river bank. “Okay, go!”

The newcomer started up the pump, and after a few seconds the hose started to twitch in their hands as it filled.

“Turn it up!” Sturges called.

The trickle became a stream, then eventually a decent jet despite the hissing leaks here and there. Preston directed it as best he could into the flaming building.

Joanna turned to the man below her. “I ever tell you you’re a real treasure, Sturges?”

“Once or twice, General. Once or twice. Never get tired of hearin’ it, though.”

She shifted the hose in her arms and watched Preston work on the fire. Her heart hurt as she thought of everything inside that would be lost inside those buckled walls. Clothes, beds, food. The concept of _spares_ no longer existed to her. Every item they lost was a blow. Only a fucking supermutant could throw a Molotov clear across the river.

Over the rush of the water and the flames, a shout distracted her from below. “General!”

Joanna turned to see a pair of dazzling white lights arc into the sky above the tree line. An alert from Red Rocket. Two flares: enemies approaching.

“Shit. Get back into town! Now!”

She dropped the hose and ran up toward the road, heading straight for her power armour. She unhooked the rifle from her back as she went and fired a single shot into the sky.

“Everyone to your positions!” she yelled. “More on the way!”

*

Eight came this time. Ten if she included the muscular mutts they sent crashing through the water to chew at Sanctuary’s defences. Joanna crouched behind the sandbags at the guard post by the wall and breathed slow and deep, steadying herself to slot another clip into her automatic pistol. She was out of fusion cells, out of thirty-eights. The shotgun she was saving in case they got right on top of her.

If.

When.

There should be four left, if her count was right. Four too many. She had killed two from the guard post on the bridge before falling back to the town gate. Preston and Sturges were on the roof of the clubhouse with long range rifles, and between them they had taken out another two so far, plus both dogs. Dotted around the town were another dozen armed settlers, including Codsworth, the two farmhands from Abernathy, and the Minutemen from the post at Red Rocket who had reached Sanctuary mere moments before the first mutant appeared at the turn in the road. A dozen settlers with dented weapons and a lean stockpile of salvaged ammo rationed out between them.

She heard loud splashing, and quickly stood to fire on the supermutant loping toward her through the river. The first burst threw it back, the second knocked it on its giant backside. Crouch. Next clip. Up. Fire. They were fanning out now, crossing the river at points along the bank, splitting the targets. The only blessing was that so far, the supermutants were too stupid to consider launching a pincer attack. If they did it would be devastating. Without materials and manpower, the defences around Sanctuary were still gaping.

The mutant stumbled through the onslaught and swiped at her with a sledgehammer the length of a man’s leg. It caught her on the elbow and she spun, landing hard. The pistol flew from her hand. No time to retrieve it. She grabbed the shotgun, hauled herself onto her feet and ran. Gunfire crackled all around. The second she could, she turned and emptied both barrels into the supermutant’s belly. It skidded to its knees, growling, and she took off again.

She reached the nearest house and ducked around the corner. Those were her last two shells. All she had left were three frag grenades. Stupid, _stupid_. Should have used them while she could, down at the river. Now she would have to get to the house, to _her_ house, and hope the ammo stash she had kept in old fireplace was still there.

She breathed, in and out, everything in perfect clarity as she balanced on that knife edge. They were going to make it. They weren’t going to make it. Gunfire roared. The mutants roared. From somewhere over the river, the sky itself roared. Bullets thudded into the earth behind her and she turned to see dust fly up from the ground alongside the melon patch. One of the fruit exploded in a sticky red rain.  

She stood and staggered out into view, waving both arms above her head to the pilot of the Vertibird. It circled, and she felt the air beat against the shell of her armour.

They were going to make it.

God bless the Brotherhood of Steel.

*

There was chaos for a few minutes. The fighters gathered in the street, and Joanna yelled herself hoarse calling for Preston. She almost crushed him flat in a power armoured hug once he finally appeared. She was careful to be more gentle with Sturges. The other townsfolk—Mama Murphy and those too old, young or sick to fight—had been down in the cellar behind Sturges’ house, waiting it out. Preston went to fetch them, and for a few minutes the street was full of people yelling out names, grabbing each other and thanking various deities. Dogmeat was a furry blur threading his way between the tangle of legs. Meanwhile the Vertibird had landed at the curve in the road next to the clubhouse, and the soldiers spilled out, expressing surprise and confusion when they saw a Brotherhood Knight already there. They only grew more confused when they heard others addressing Joanna as _General_.

Miraculously, everyone was alive. The Redfern girl from Abernathy Farm and one of the Minutemen were injured are were taken immediately to the clubhouse for attention. Sanctuary didn’t have a trained doctor, but one of the women on the Vertibird was a field scribe medic, so she took charge of the makeshift surgery.

“I could have seen all this, if you’d only let me,” Mama Murphy said sadly as she trailed past Joanna.

“We’re alive, Mama,” Joanna said, touching the woman’s fragile shoulder. “That’s what matters. And we can rebuild.”

She trudged off to help the Brotherhood soldiers finish putting out the fire that had started earlier. Afterward they dragged away the bodies of the supermutants that had made it across the river. The Senior Knight commanding the unit, Adams, told Joanna how the ’bird had come upon them by chance. The pilot had spotted the flares in the distance, she said, and they’d decided to check the situation. On the way they had spotted another gang of four mutants heading up through Concord, and taken them out with the minigun. Joanna grimaced at the thought of yet another attack. It would have finished them.

“Looks as though they want in on this place pretty bad,” Adams said.

Joanna nodded grimly. “That’s the third attack in two days. Three hit us yesterday, and four this morning. We’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’ll report it back to the Prydwen immediately,” Knight Adams said. “See if we can get a regular air patrol of this area. Whatever those green sons of bitches are after, they won’t be getting it here.”

“Thank you. And thank you for today. We were hanging by a thread there.” 

As much as she despised them, she knew the supermutants were only after what every other living thing in the Commonwealth was after. Food. Water. Shelter. If only everyone could stop slaughtering each other over it for long enough to start fixing the Commonwealth up, there might actually be enough for all of them.

Once the injured were patched up and resting, the Brotherhood started to move out. Adams boarded the Vertibird and the pilot started the propellers while they waited for the team to assemble. The settlers returned to their homes. Preston and Sturges set out to walk the perimeter and assess the damage. Joanna felt heavy at the thought of how bad it might be. With a twinge of guilt, she wondered if they wouldn’t be better off letting Mama Murphy use the Sight. But no, of course Joanna couldn’t allow it. The woman’s tiny frame could barely withstand a strong wind, never mind another hit of psycho or whatever she was hankering for next.

She headed for home, planning to get out of her armour. The plating on her left forearm had been blasted clean off by the sledgehammer blow. She could see blood on her jacket through the gaps in the power armour frame. Nothing serious. Her flesh would heal itself. Steel couldn’t. It didn’t matter that her new suit was being prepped aboard the Prydwen; the T-45 had life in it yet, and the way the past two days had been going, she might need it again sooner than she’d like. She would fix it up, and then maybe once she returned to the Prydwen she could leave it here for Sturges to use. He could use the extra muscle.

Before she could reach her front door, she heard a sharp bark followed by shouting across the street. Marcy Long was hollering a stream of abuse after a Knight, who was strolling toward the Vertibird with a big wooden box in his arms. Dogmeat nipped uselessly at the man's armoured ankles while Jun Long stumbled after him.

“Hey, hey!” he was saying. “You can’t take that, it’s ours.”

Joanna was over there in a heartbeat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. The Knight turned to her and she pointed at the crate. “What is that?”

His helmet was off, so she saw the dismissive up-and-down look he gave her. “Melon.”

“And what are you doing with it?”

The Knight turned away and kept walking. “Taking it back for the troops.”

Joanna saw red. “I don’t think so. You have no right to that food. Put it back right now.”

The Knight stopped again and glared. He reminded her of numerous young officers she had known in Boston PD before the war; surly and arrogant, confusing power with superiority. “You’re not my CO, Mayes. Back the fuck off.”

“I am the General of the Minutemen and the leader of this settlement,” she snapped. “Now put that back or I’ll report you to Elder Maxson himself.” She checked the name stencilled on his right shoulder. Knight Goody. _Ha_.

“Proctor Teagan authorised us to procure supplies from settlements,” Goody said. “And we just saved your ass. So think of it as a thank you gift.”

Joanna stared him down. When she got back to the Prydwen she was going to climb across the counter of Teagan’s cage and procure the teeth right out of his mouth. “If you want recognition, I will personally see to it that what you’ve done here today is reported back to your superiors,” she told him. Time to bring out her Cop Voice. It didn’t show itself very often, but when it did, people generally stopped and paid attention. “But you will not take any more from these people. Does it look as though this town can afford to spare a _single god damn_ _bean_? Now put. It. _Back_.”

“Fuck this, man.” He shoved the crate at her and it fell. The lid opened and melons tumbled out, rolling across the cracked tarmac. “We’re getting out of this dump. Ad victoriam, bitch.”

She glared after him as Jun scrabbled around after the fallen fruit.

God damn the Brotherhood of Steel.


	5. Chapter 5

“I think we’ll have to disable the recruitment beacon for now, General,” Preston said. He sounded exhausted.  

He stood on the other side of the curtain with Dogmeat sprawled at his heels while Joanna cleaned herself up in a cubicle at the clubhouse. The water was already brown-black with blood and smoke after scrubbing down her face and arms, so she pulled the plug and let it drain into the metal pail underneath before refilling the basin from the jug on the stand.

“We can’t risk putting out an open invitation again,” Preston added. “Not until we have some heavy duty defences in place.”

“I agree,” she sighed. “For now we’ll just have to recruit by word of mouth. Starlight can keep sending folks our way from Lexington. I’ll talk to Piper and Nick about doing the same in Diamond City.”

Joanna splashed clean water over the wound on her arm. It wasn’t deep, just a bad scrape along her elbow, but it needed dressing. She tugged the curtain back.

“Hey, would you mind?” she asked Preston, holding out a roll of bandage. He didn’t bat an eyelid at the sight of his friend and leader standing there in her bra and leathers.

“Use as little as possible,” she said. “Supplies are already low.” The statement was redundant. Supplies were always low.

Preston wrapped her elbow neatly and she went back into the stall to finish washing. She dried off on a ragged scrap of towel and pulled on her cleanest shirt. Her canvas jacket needed repairs but was filthy, so she tossed it into the laundry crate with her tank top and towel. Laundry, like most other tasks in Sanctuary, was a communal chore, and there could be an ugly scrum over clean clothes. After a particularly vocal disagreement with Marcy Long over some cotton underwear, she’d made sure that every item of hers had ‘Mayes’ stitched neatly into the seams.

“Once we’ve finished setting up Zimonja, the radio mast there will give our comms a big boost,” Preston went on. “The radio network—” His voice cut off sharply.

Joanna stilled with her fingers on the shirt buttons. “What is it?”

The floorboards creaked as he crossed to the door. Dogmeat’s claws rattled after him. “Vertibird,” he said.

Sure enough, she could just about hear the approaching drone of an aircraft. She joined Preston outside, fastening her Pip-boy as she watched the ’bird advance from the south-east. She could only think of two reasons why the Brotherhood were returning to Sanctuary so soon, and both made her gut tighten in fear. Either another attack was imminent, or a unit had been sent back to commandeer whatever spoils the town had to offer. Either way, she had a new fight on her hands.

The Vertibird descended above the town and landed on the same spot in the road where the other one had taken off not two hours earlier. A soldier in power armour climbed out, and Joanna had a moment of joyous relief when she thought it may be Danse. That hope evaporated when the soldier moved aside and a familiar figure in a brown coat stepped down from the craft.

“Ah, hell.” This _really_ couldn’t be good.

“Who is that?” Preston asked at her side.

“That’s him,” she replied. “Maxson.”

He sucked air in through his teeth. “Guess we managed to piss off the Brotherhood, huh?”

She had no time to reply because Maxson was already stalking towards them, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. The soldier—a Paladin, she noted from the crest on his arm—walked a few steps behind, laser rifle at the ready.

“Knight Mayes,” Maxson said. His voice was the usual combination of gruff and formal, while the glasses rendered him even more distant and unreadable. She had no idea what she was in for.

“Elder Maxson, sir,” she replied. “Welcome to Sanctuary.” He looked at Preston, so she made a hasty introduction. “This is Colonel Garvey, of the Minutemen.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Preston said, extending his hand. He eyed Maxson with the same wary aloofness she’d seen him give Danse the first time they met.

“Likewise, Colonel.” Maxson shook Preston’s hand, then promptly ignored him and turned back to Joanna. She saw her double reflection in his glasses. “Is there somewhere we can speak in private, Knight?”

“Of course, sir. Follow me.”

She led him stiffly toward her house. She would have preferred to be on more neutral ground, but nowhere else afforded the privacy needed for whatever was coming. If she had to plead with him not to requisition their supplies, better to do it behind closed doors. Likewise, if he was here to rip her a new one for how she’d spoken to Knight Goody, she didn’t need the Minutemen to witness their General shamefacedly toeing the Brotherhood line. And she could hardly tell Maxson to shove it when the mission to the Glowing Sea loomed so close.

Dogmeat seemed to sense that she needed moral support, so he padded along beside her. The bodyguard waited outside by the doorstep like an oversized lawn ornament. Joanna showed Maxson in and closed the door. He took off his sunglasses and glanced around the room. It was strange to see him outside the cold metal shell of the Prydwen. Even more jarring when he was standing in the home she had once shared with Nate and Shaun.

She wasn’t sure whether or not to ask him to sit down, but he spoke before she could decide. “Senior Knight Adams reported the situation here,” he said. “A skirmish with supermutants.” He turned to her and demanded, “Would you care to tell me why you ignored a direct order and entered combat?”

Joanna’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me, sir?”

“As I recall, you left the Prydwen yesterday morning under strict instructions to rest in advance of your next mission.”

“I haven’t forgotten, sir.”

“So explain yourself.”

Why was it that every conversation they had ended up raising her blood pressure? “I wasn’t ignoring instructions,” she argued. “I heard my town had been under attack. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let them flatten it around me.”

His frown intensified. “You should have called for air reinforcement at the first sign of danger. You are equipped with those smoke grenades for a reason.”

Anger thumped dully in her gut, but now it was also directed within. He was right. She should have signalled for backup. She had placed Sanctuary and all its people at risk today by simply not thinking. “When we heard the reports last night, the first attack was already over,” she explained lamely. “I arrived this morning to gauge the damage and offer support. I didn’t anticipate a second attack, and certainly not a third. We rarely see supermutants up here at all. Never in those kind of numbers.”

Maxson huffed out an impatient breath. “Supermutants are _always_ unpredictable,” he said. “And unrelenting. I thought you had learned that much by now.”

She should have learned that, she thought. Instead she had become arrogant. After killing so many mutants with Danse, she had allowed herself to forget the threat they posed. She would not make that mistake again.

Maxson stared at her. “Knight Adams reported that you were struck.”

Oh, great. “No. I mean, yes, I was, but I’m fine. My power armour protected me.”

“Is that so?” He walked toward her and snatched her arm, pulling it roughly toward him. The bandage peeked out below her rolled sleeve. His fingers burned where they circled her skin. “Then what is _this_?”

At her side, Dogmeat flattened his ears and gave a warning growl. Joanna tugged her arm back from his grasp. “It’s just a scratch.”

“I need you in peak physical condition. Any wound runs the risk of infection. Did you at least use a stimpak?”

She was blushing in humiliation now, curse and damn her treacherous body. “There was no need. We don’t have enough supplies to waste on—”

“There are medical supplies on the Vertibird. Now, do I need to go fetch one and administer it myself?”

As if her disgrace were not complete. She would not have him treat her like an unruly child. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll use one of mine. Sir.”

“See to it that you do.”

The ‘ _now’_ was silent, but heavily implied. Joanna thought better of defying him. She went into the kitchen area and took the first aid kit from the cupboard under the sink. At least using the stimpak allowed her a moment’s respite from Maxson’s glare. Once she turned back to him, a little of the tension had drained out of the air. She took a deep breath.

“If I may, sir, there’s a matter I’d like to discuss.” He nodded for her to continue. “When I saw your Vertibird heading this way, I thought maybe someone was coming to... Procure supplies. For the Brotherhood.”

He frowned. “I don’t follow. You have a surplus of goods here?”

“No, we don’t, that’s the whole point. That’s why I had the, uh, disagreement with Knight Goody.” She took in his confused expression. “You haven’t heard about any of this?”

“There was nothing in Knight Adams’ report about supplies.”

Joanna recounted the incident from earlier while Maxson listened with unwavering attention. She hesitated before telling him about Goody’s parting words. They were only words. Then again, that little punk had it coming to him.

“He said ‘ _Ad victoriam, bitch_ ’ as he left. I’m a lot harder to offend than that; lord knows I heard far worse in the Boston PD every day of my career. But I thought you should be aware how certain soldiers under your command are conducting themselves in the field.”

Maxson looked as though he had turned to stone. Perhaps she had said too much. When he didn’t reply after a few more seconds, Joanna went on, hoping to salvage the situation. “Anyway. I hope it’s obvious to you by now that Sanctuary is struggling enough as it is. If you like, I can show you around so you can see for yourself. I know that Proctor Teagan asks field units to secure whatever provisions they can, but—well, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn here, sir, but I would urge you to reconsider that policy. It puts extra strain on people who are barely getting by as it is.”

“Our policy is to trade wherever possible,” Maxson replied, voice like gravel. “Not to take what we want in exchange for protection. You have my assurance on that.”

Well, that _was_ interesting. “Thank you, sir. Everyone is extremely grateful for the Brotherhood’s support today. I don’t wish to imply otherwise.”

He nodded. “I would like to speak with the citizens involved in the incident,” he said. “Then I would be honoured to have a tour of the settlement.”


	6. Chapter 6

Joanna stood back and tried not to look as though she was listening in while Maxson conversed in low tones with Jun and Marcy Long. Well, the men spoke in low tones; Marcy was as strident as ever.

“He did not _push past_ you, Jun, he knocked you on your ass,” she said, loud enough for the whole settlement to hear.

Joanna crouched down to scratch behind Dogmeat’s ears and hide the smile on her face. After another minute or two, Maxson’s boots appeared in her eyeline.

“Shall we?”

He had dismissed his power armoured companion for now, so they had only Dogmeat as chaperone. Joanna thought they may as well begin the tour at the far end and work their way back along the road. She led Maxson past the Longs’ to the old oak in the centre of the traffic circle. It was the only tree still standing along the road, partly because it was too thick to be felled by any of Sturges’ tools, but she was glad it was still there. Even leafless and lifeless, it reminded her of the way Sanctuary had once been.

She pointed out the still-smouldering wreck at the end of the street, then the part-built house next door. “The town may not look like much, but back in October, every house in town looked like that or worse,” she said, gesturing to the building site. “Just empty shells, nothing more. It’s incredible how far it’s come. But there’s still such a long way to go.”

They reached the house Sturges shared with Mama Murphy next. A half dozen of Sturges’ unfinished projects lay in greasy tangles of metal and wiring on the former lawn. Mama Murphy was sitting outside in her chair as she preferred to whenever the weather was dry. Sometimes Sturges would haul that armchair back and forth for her several times a day.

“Are you all right, Mama?” Joanna asked. “Anything you need?”

“You know what I need,” the old woman drawled. “All the good it does me to ask.” She looked at Maxson. “Ahhh,” she said with a knowing, enigmatic nod. “It’s _you_.”

“Have we met, ma’am?”

“No,” she said. “But I saw you comin’ a long way off.” She turned her eyes on Joanna and gave her a look loaded with mystery. Unfortunately now was not the time to ask any more questions, so Joanna bid her goodbye and moved on.

They passed between the houses to the garden at the back. Joanna waved a hand at the wooded slope than ran from the garden down to the north-east curve of the river. “This will all be cleared and used for crops, once more settlers come. The wood will be used for construction.”

Maxson paused to light a cigarette. She declined the one he offered her. His shrewd gaze passed over the view before him as he took a long drag. He remained mostly silent as they walked back along the road, past settlers who nodded to Joanna and watched the man at her side warily. Dogmeat trotted ahead as Joanna showed Maxson the workshop on their left, the main storehouse opposite her home, more settler accommodations. They reached the turn in the road where the pilot leaned against the nose of the idle Vertibird, chatting with a lanky teenage kid who clearly thought the aircraft was the coolest thing she’d ever seen.  

Joanna pointed to the two-storey building on the inside curve of the road. “This is the—Well, we call it the clubhouse, but it’s sort of a communal hall. Downstairs is a dining hall, kitchen, laundry, wash rooms. Upstairs is a meeting room, but at night it’s more of a bar. The shacks behind it are the outhouses. Marcy is working on turning them all into compost toilets, but for the time being... It’s a little grim in there.”

They wandered down to the little trading post beside the entrance to town, and she led Maxson through the guard post with its ugly spiked gate and turrets and out onto the bridge. Dogmeat squeezed through a gap in the wall and jumped down to splash around in the river while Maxson stood at Joanna’s side, leaning against the railing as he surveyed the town. From here they could see the grassy incline that led from the river up toward the houses, lined with row after row of straggly plants.

“Those are our crops,” she said. “Marcy and Jun are in charge of the farm. Right now they have melon, corn, mutfruit and tato growing fairly well. They’ve tried razorgrain, too, but it doesn’t seem to take to this soil.”

She watched Maxson’s profile as he looked over Sanctuary. His expression gave nothing away, though he did perhaps seem a little less severe. Joanna found herself hoping that he was impressed. Partly for her pride, yes. She wanted him to take the work she had done with the Minutemen seriously. But she also wanted to open his eyes to what life was like down here on the ground.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever worked the land before,” she said. “I certainly hadn’t. The closest I ever came before the war was mowing my lawn on a weekend. I’ve had to learn so much just to be able to help out. And it’s backbreaking, demoralising work. Almost everything here is done by hand. Just watering crops takes more effort than I had ever imagined. Thanks to weather changes and radiation in the earth, only about twenty percent of the produce is even edible. It’s the same story in every settlement. The farm at Oberland Station lost ninety percent of its corn harvest in the last radstorm. They were facing starvation. Tenpines Bluff had half their crops razed by bloatfly. That’s before you even factor in raiders. Luckily, we’re able to send enough supplies between settlements to keep everyone going, but we’re stretched so thin. People here are always just one disaster away from having nothing.

“Sturges, our head engineer, is brilliant. I honestly think we’d all still be cowering in a leaking shack right now if it weren’t for him. Given the resources, there’s so much he could do. Design automated sprinklers for the crops. Improve communications. Build more turrets. It’s obvious after today how badly we need to improve defences. Preston is doing an amazing job training up new Minutemen recruits, but there just aren’t enough weapons. Resources are thin at the best of times, and—” She glanced at him, judging how bold she could afford to be. She may never get another opportunity like this to put her case forward. “Permission to be brutally honest, sir?”

He glanced toward her and one of his eyebrows hitched up a fraction of an inch. “Go ahead.”

"Well, those resources keep getting thinner thanks to an armed militia that insists on sweeping up every last scrap of technology in the Commonwealth.”

She looked at him now, allowed herself to really lock eyes with his for the first time since he had arrived. Her cheeks grew warm despite the breeze, but Maxson’s gaze was cool and patient, so she charged ahead.

“I understand the Brotherhood code. Technology can be dangerous, of course, but it’s also _necessary_ , sir. These people need it to survive. Take that purifier, for example.” She pointed to the metal hulk squatting in the river below. “Without that machine, we’d all be too sick to work. And the pump you can see further down? That helped us put out the fire today. Technology saves lives. But right now it’s all held together with hope and duct tape.” She looked back at his face, turning golden in the fading sun. “Anything we can use here to save labour means energy can be put into other things. Building. Education. Tending the sick. Raising children. Things that are absolutely essential for the future of our species, but that have to take a backseat when you’re living hand to mouth.”

Maxson’s eyes lingered on hers. “I hope you already know my thoughts on the importance of raising children,” he said. Joanna flushed, but avoided the urge to look away.

“I do,” she replied. “But you—The Brotherhood wants everything for itself. I’ve seen the labs, I know the advances the scribes are making with agriculture and medicine. What good is that progress if it isn’t being shared with these people? You must know that the future of humanity means the future of _all_ humanity. Not just the privileged few who happen to wear that badge.” She gestured to the sleeve of his coat.

“You wear this badge too, Knight,” he said, a hint of warning in his tone. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that.”

“No.”

“The Brotherhood is here as a military force, first and foremost,” he said. “We serve the people by removing their enemies. I assure you I want the best for these men and women, but you can no more ask me to hand out aid than I could ask the settlers here to mount an attack on the Institute. That is the job of my soldiers, and they will perform that task knowing that many of them will die in the attempt.”

“No one is asking for handouts,” she said. “Just fair play. To share knowledge. To not take what strengthens you from the hands of those already weak.” She looked down at the water. “As for sacrifice—I don’t deny that your soldiers are brave, Elder, I’ve seen that with my own eyes. But... the couple you talked to earlier, the Longs? They were both in the original party that travelled here from Quincy after Gunners tore their home apart. Only five of them made it this far. On the way, raiders attacked their group and killed their eleven-year-old son. Since they arrived in Sanctuary, Jun and Marcy have worked sixteen hour days, every single day, to build homes and tend crops. They had no training or equipment. They aren’t particularly strong or healthy. They may well die in the attempt of just trying to make a life here. Many of the settlers have a similar story to tell. There are different types of courage, sir.”

They both fell silent for some time. Joanna had said quite enough for now, and he appeared to be digesting it. She watched as Dogmeat clambered up onto the wall beside the river, shook himself and ran off to see what Sturges was doing. Evidently he had decided it was safe to leave Joanna and Maxson unsupervised.

“You have a Mr Handy?”

She followed the line of Maxson’s gaze to where the robot’s gleaming body bobbed between rows of corn. Maxson had better not even think about touching him. “Yes. That’s Codsworth. He works here. He’s always worked here. He was our home help, back before the war. He’s almost like family.”

Maxson looked at her abruptly. “You lived here before the war?”

“Yes. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No. I had no idea.”

“Yes. The house we were in earlier was my home. _Is_ my home.”

He frowned. “I apologise. I was not aware.” She wasn’t sure what he was apologising for. If he was sorry for reprimanding her, then it shouldn’t matter where it had happened. “So the vault you were in. It’s near here?”

“Just over that ridge,” she said, pointing west.

“Vault one-eleven,” he said. Joanna wondered if the Brotherhood had their eyes on it. It seemed likely. All that delicious pre-war tech, just waiting to be gobbled up. “Have you considered moving the settlers inside?”

“No,” she replied. “It’d be safe, that much is true, but you can’t grow a whole lot underground. I don’t know how practical it would be. Plus I for one couldn’t live down there. Not after what happened.” She couldn’t even bring herself to wear the vault suit.

Maxson didn’t know the whole story, but he knew enough. “Of course not,” he said quietly. He let go of the railing and straightened. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you for your hospitality, Knight.”

She felt a little ashamed. He had listened with unexpected patience as she aired her grievances, but she had yet to offer him so much as a glass of water. “We’ll be preparing dinner soon at the clubhouse. You’re, ah, welcome to stay if you like.”

“I appreciate the offer. But I have business to attend to aboard the Prydwen. Before I go, may I offer a few words of advice?”

“Of course.”

“Agriculture isn’t my strong suit. I’ll leave that to my scribes. But I do know about attack and defence. You have this bridge well covered, but if I were to launch a ground assault, I’d hit you from that side.” He pointed to the wooded area to the north-east. “The trees provide cover and you have no defences whatsoever on that side. It’s the perfect spot for a sneak attack, especially at night. You could be sleeping in your beds, and I’d be on top of you before you even knew what was happening.”

Clearly something was very wrong with Joanna, because her mind immediately caught on the double meaning in his words. She felt a flash of heat rise up her chest and neck.

Maxson seemed utterly oblivious to the possible innuendo. He turned and gestured to the west. “You’re wide open there, too,” he said. “A pronged attack from both sides would be devastating. Perhaps I’d start a fire in the trees to the north-east, then attack from the west while you were tackling it. I could take this town with very little risk to my own forces.” God, he really didn’t sugar-coat anything. She was impressed, though. A little.

“I guess it’s lucky you’re not my enemy,” she said weakly.

“I’m not, but others will be. Supermutants don’t have the faculties to rely on anything more than brute strength, but raiders might. Eventually someone desperate enough will come along and sniff out your weak spots. You need to be ready for them. I would recommend clearing those trees as soon as possible. In the meantime, set up tripwires and simple alarms around them. Have guards walk the perimeter on shifts, day and night. Then as soon as you have the materials to do so, erect a wall around the town.”

Joanna puffed out a deep breath. “I appreciate the advice,” she said. “My husband was a military man, but I’m no soldier.”

“Yes you are,” Maxson replied. “Whether by choice or not, you are a damn good soldier. I would not entrust a critical mission to you if you weren’t.”

Their eyes met and held for a long moment.

“Thank you for showing me your home,” he said at last. “It was an honour.”

He reached for her hand and lifted it, then pressed a dry kiss to her knuckles. Joanna was still blinking in astonishment at the old-fashioned gesture when he turned her hand over in his and held her palm briefly to his face. It was such unexpected intimacy that her heart hitched at the rough feel of his beard under her fingers. Maxson’s eyes closed for a moment, then with a look of regret he released her hand. His arms went behind his back in his usual display of formality and he bowed his head to her.

“Knight,” he said, then turned and walked away without another glance in her direction.

Joanna stood rooted to the spot until the Vertibird took off. She watched as it flew low overhead, whipping her hair about her face as she stood dumbly clutching her hand, still tingling from the warmth of his skin, against her chest.


	7. Chapter 7

Joanna was distracted as she ate dinner in the clubhouse with the settlers. She was distracted even as she gathered everyone in the bar for a community meeting to discuss the new work and repair schedule. She managed to hold it together enough to lead the discussion. Now that the initial relief of surviving the attacks had abated, people were drained and feeling anxious about the days and weeks to come. There was so much to be done. Joanna had a pang of guilt that in two more days she would be departing on her mission to find Virgil, leaving Sanctuary with even fewer hands to put to work. That led her mind astray again, and she only heard half of Marcy Long’s rant about what she would do to Knight Goody were he ever fool enough to set an armoured foot in Sanctuary again.

Later, Preston came to sit by her side out on the balcony as she was gazing at the stars. She still couldn’t get over the sheer number of them.

“You okay? You’ve been spacing out all evening.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just exhausted.”

And she was, though once she retired to her bed she found herself staring up at the ceiling, mind still churning. And not over the things that she should actually be concerned about, like the dwindling reserves of generator fuel or where to source enough nails to piece together new barricades. No. The cause of her turmoil lay elsewhere. A silly, chaste kiss that she should have brushed off the minute it happened, but instead it burned in her like a guilty secret.

She thought of Maxson’s skin warm beneath her palm, the scratch of his beard, and the rush of sensation that flooded her body was so sudden and intense that even alone in the dark, she rolled onto her side and pressed her face into her pillow in embarrassment. The reaction was a bitter reminder of how long it had been since she was last touched. She’d had the occasional contact, of course. Moments of friendly affection with Preston and Piper, even Danse when his guard was down. But for someone to touch her with anything like the intimate affection of a lover just rocked her to the core. She hadn’t even realised until today how much she longed for it. For Nate’s arms around her, his fingers smoothing her hair, their feet tangling together under the covers at the end of the day. His lips on hers. She gripped his wedding ring, strung on the chain of her Brotherhood dog tags, and shuddered at the absence.

She had not anticipated this physical side of her grief, the grip of withdrawal. But it made sense of what she was feeling now. In her starving state, she grabbed at the little morsels of contact Maxson had given her because they were all she had. She told herself she shouldn’t feel guilty for it. That she need not feel like a traitor every time her heart pounded at the memory of Maxson’s lips grazing her hand. It was meaningless. Maxson was handsome, she would concede that much, if only to herself in the dead of night. And admittedly she had seen a different side to him today, away from his command base and the soldiers who idolised him. But her feelings toward him had not changed.

And maybe, in a way, that made him safe. There was no threat of any real attachment developing between them. Perhaps she could use this momentary distraction to feed her physical hunger, just once, and keep her grief at bay a little longer. She couldn’t afford to face it yet, not until Shaun had been found and was safe.

She snaked a hand down under her waistband and between her legs. It had been so long that she’d expected to have to work at it, but she found herself so slick and ready for the touch that she gasped aloud in shock. Sparks shivered along her arms and legs. Instantly she flooded with shame, yanked her hand back out of her shorts and curled her body in on itself. She wrapped her arms around her knees and squeezed her eyes shut, so determined to fall asleep that eventually her mind relented and she did.

* 

She could tell it was late the second she opened her eyes. Not from the light, since so little filtered in through the animal hides nailed up over her windows in place of drapes, or even from the noises outside, but because she felt so well rested. She fumbled for her Pip-boy on the stool beside the bed and stared in disbelief. It was almost ten. She hadn’t slept such a long time since—God, probably before Shaun was born, since parents of six-month-olds seldom had the luxury.

She pulled on her clothes and padded into the kitchen. She had long since missed a cooked breakfast in the clubhouse, so she poured herself a bowl of Sugar Bombs and ate them dry like popcorn. At least Maxson would be happy that she was resting well. She frowned and shoved the thought of him aside immediately.

A drizzle was falling when she went outside. Jill Redfern, the girl from Abernathy Farm, hobbled over, an upturned broom tucked under her arm as a crutch. Her friend Hollis had returned home, but she had stayed to heal up her injured leg first. She’d taken a nasty bite from a mutant hound.

“Mornin’, General,” she said. “Fella came by looking for you little while ago.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. He was in power armour though.”

“Where is he now?”

“Colonel Garvey told him not to disturb you and dragged him off that-a-way.” She gestured to  Sturges’ workshop.

“Thank you, Jill. Take it easy on that leg, now.”

She wandered across the street and ducked into the workshop. It was a big gloomy shed that smelled of oil and sawdust. Assorted junk was piled on shelves and in drifts against the walls. A long row of work benches made from kitchen counters and old doors propped on concrete blocks ran down the centre of the rooml, and Sturges and a few settlers whistled along with the radio as they worked under flickering light bulbs. The workshop and the clubhouse were currently the only buildings in Sanctuary that had power. Joanna greeted the workers as she passed and followed the sound of male bickering to the back of the room, where a suit of power armour stood unoccupied beside the two men at the table.

“You’re turning it too slow,” said the one on his feet.

“And if I turn it faster, it’ll break,” the seated one replied snippily.

“Danse!” Joanna grinned. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow.”

Danse turned to greet her, and Preston cursed at him. “Hold it steady!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He turned back to the table, and Joanna peered around him. Danse was holding a chipped coffee cup in place on the desktop while Preston attempted to bore a hole into the base of it with a manual drill.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s for the alarms you suggested,” Preston replied, frowning in concentration. “Sturges thought we could use some cups as well as cans, make a little more noise.”

“Mm, good idea,” she said, looking over the desk at the strings of empty cans. The idea was to hang them in the trees, attached to trip wires on the ground. She neglected to correct Preston as to whose idea it really was. “Why’d you let me sleep so late? I could have helped.”

Preston shrugged. “We rang the bell, same as any morning. When you didn’t show I figured you could use the rest.”

“Anything I can do now?”

“Sit, so you can tell me what happened yesterday,” Danse replied.

“I’m guessing you already know about our little supermutant adventure.” Joanna dragged over an old office chair and sat down. “Is that why you came?”

“It is,” Danse said. “And I thought you could use my help more than the Brotherhood. I was only performing administrative duties in Cambridge, and being behind a desk... is not my preferred vocation. I would have come right away but I only received word last night.” He gave her a stern look. “You really should have used a signal grenade as soon as the danger arose.”

“Oh, don’t you start.”

“Garvey has appraised me of some of the details,” he went on. “What on earth happened here with Elder Maxson? It’s caused quite a stir aboard the Prydwen.”

Joanna froze. “What do you mean?”

“As soon as he returned to headquarters, he called a meeting with senior field staff. Obviously I was unable to attend, but I was debriefed by radio later. Maxson expressed in no uncertain terms that the behaviour of some of our units was unacceptable. We are to follow a strict code of conduct when engaging with civilians. To set an example, he had one Knight sent to the brig at the airport.”

Joanna’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “He’s in a _cell_? Wait, you are talking about Goody, right?”

“Affirmative. Senior Knight Munez came off the ship last night, and he informed me that in addition, Maxson kept Proctor Teagan behind after dismissing everyone else. Obviously that was a private discussion, and—” He caught himself, and glanced shiftily from her to Preston. “Actually, I shouldn’t be discussing it with either of you.”

Joanna scooted her chair closer. Even Preston had given up drilling to listen. “Oh come on,” Joanna pleaded. “What happened?”

Danse sighed. “I don’t know, but there’s talk that things became quite... heated.”

Joanna put a hand to her mouth. Part of her was delighted, but she was also shocked. Maxson had given so little away. She’d had no idea he would take the complaints so seriously. “Wow. How are people taking it?”

“I can’t speak for anyone else,” Danse replied. “But I for one wholeheartedly support Elder Maxson’s stance on this. I’ll confess that my own conduct in dealing with Commonwealth citizens has left something to be desired. The first time I met the two of you is an example. I was suspicious and abrupt.”

“Is that an apology, Danse?” Preston looked up at him, a smile playing at his lips.

“I will gladly apologise if I caused offence.”

“Cut it out,” Joanna told Preston with a smirk. He hadn’t exactly been friendly towards Danse, either, though the initial tensions between them had eased over the weeks. “Danse, you were being attacked by a dozen ghouls. I think that’s reason to be abrupt. You’ve always been a gentleman.”

The men continued their assault on the coffee cups, and Joanna joined in the effort with a screwdriver and some rusty cans. She described the events of the previous day to Danse as they worked. She omitted any mention of what happened on the bridge with Maxson, of course. Even now, she could feel her skin prickle just thinking about it. How ridiculous.

After lunch they trudged down into the woods with their odd armfuls of cans, cups and pans. Sturges and his helpers were already there setting up tripwires. Dogmeat scampered around their heels, sniffing and pausing to cock his leg against a tree every now and then. The rain fell more heavily now, which made the ground underfoot boggy and difficult to traverse. Preston and Danse squabbled more than usual. Joanna was about to tell them to knock it off when Danse stilled, raising a hand to silence them.

“What is—” She heard the Vertibird blades a moment later, the sound slicing through the rain from the south.

The group went back to the road and watched it approach. Joanna wiped at her dirty face with a shirt sleeve. Preston stood at her side, rain dripping off his hat.

“At this rate,” he said, “Sanctuary’s gonna need a helipad.”

*

Maxson wasn’t on board this time. Instead, a stocky Scribe in robes that almost brushed the ground disembarked and started directing two junior scribes to unload metal crates from the aircraft.

“Scribe Gillespie,” Danse called, striding toward the Vertibird. He was back in his power armour now, and he positively loomed over the diminutive woman. Even at half his height and twice his age, she eyed Danse as though she could eat him for breakfast.

“Paladin,” she said curtly. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here. Where’s Knight Mayes?” She squinted over at Joanna, who suddenly felt quite unimpressive in her civilian clothes. “You’re her, huh? Am I supposed to call you _General_?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Joanna bowed her head briefly. “Pleasure to meet you, Scribe.”

“I was told to report to you. Elder Maxson’s orders. Who runs your farm?”

“Uh, that would be the Longs. Should I get them?”

“Please. And can we get out of this rain before my hair shrinks?”

Joanna quickly ushered the group into the clubhouse and sent Preston to fetch Jun and Marcy. The junior scribes hefted in various cases and started to unload them onto tables in the dining area. Gillespie sprung open the catches on one and lifted the lid. Joanna could see green points of foliage inside.

“These first three crates contain plantlets of species developed using the Brotherhood’s own adapted version of a GECK. I’m assuming you know what the GECK is?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Joanna said.

Gillespie gave her a look as though she couldn’t quite comprehend how Joanna had survived this long. Joanna frequently wondered the same thing. “Look it up sometime. Let’s just say these plants are more hardy and produce a significantly more consistent and healthy crop than anything you’re growing here now. My team has been working on these for years.” There was a touch of tenderness to her voice at the end.

Preston had returned with Marcy and Jun now, and Scribe Gillespie went on to explain what was being proposed. In short, the Brotherhood would donate enough plants and seeds, as well as chemicals to prepare the soil, to revolutionise Sanctuary’s farm. In return the Brotherhood would be entitled to a fifty per cent share of the produce to feed their troops. The rest was for the people of Sanctuary to do with as they pleased. In addition, the farmers would allow Gillespie’s team regular visits to take samples and run tests for their own continued research.

“Thank you, Scribe,” Joanna said once Gillespie had finished. “If you would excuse us, I’ll need to talk to the townspeople and put it to a vote.”

Gillespie looked at her as though she were mad, but sighed and nodded. “Do what you need.”

Preston rang the bell and gathered as may of Sanctuary’s adults as could come at such short notice. Even Codsworth joined them. Danse escorted the scribes off to look at the existing crops while the meeting took place.

“There’s no question,” Marcy announced. “I don’t like how the Brotherhood does things, but we need food. Me and Jun can’t keep working the hours we do for a handful of crappy corn.”

Jun agreed with her, as did Sturges and most of the others present.

Preston was hesitant. “I don’t like the thought of being in the Brotherhood’s debt,” he said.

Joanna understood his perspective, but had to admit that they already kind of were. “They saved our lives yesterday. And this is a reasonable offer. I was expecting them to ask for a bigger share, to be honest.”

“They want half of it for themselves,” Preston argued.

“True, but they have more mouths to feed than us,” Sturges replied. “And even half that food is a mountain compared to what we got now. We’ll have all we need to eat, plus enough left over to build up trade. That means we can buy more supplies for building. Won’t have to pick through junk for it all.”

“We could probably afford to feed a couple brahmin, too,” one of the farmhands added.

“But what happens when they leave the Commonwealth?” Preston asked. “When they don’t have to keep up appearances and play nice with us any more? Will they uproot it all and take it with them? They still own the plants. Gillespie made that much clear.”

Joanna knew his reservations were justified. She too was torn between gratitude and suspicion. She had told Maxson what Sanctuary needed, but now that he’d provided exactly that, it felt almost too good to be true. In the end, though, the vote fell firmly in favour of taking the Brotherhood up on their deal.

For the next couple of hours, the scribes talked the farmers through how to prepare the soil and tend each species of plant. There was corn, carrot, a small apple-like fruit, and a new variety of grain. The latter made everyone’s eyes widen in hunger at the prospect of baked bread. Seeing Marcy and Gillespie face off could have been terrifying, but the two actually got along rather well, heads bent over the plantlets as they discussed fertilisers and sowing methods.

“Thank you,” Joanna said as Gillespie and her team were preparing to leave. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Well, when you decide, say it to Maxson,” she said with a dismissive flick of her hand. “He’s the one who  insisted we do this. All I can say is, don’t screw up my hard work.”

“We’ll do you proud, Scribe.”

*

Preston was still grumbling about it that evening over a beer with Joanna and Danse.

“Well I think it’s an extremely generous offer,” Danse gushed.

“Of course you do,” Preston replied. He shook his head. “Maxson’s trying to buy off the Minutemen, if you ask me.”

Joanna’s opinion fell somewhere in between the two. Still, she didn’t need any more arguments. “Regardless of the long term plan, life here is about to get easier,” she said. “And god knows everyone deserves that.”

“I don’t know why you’re so supportive,” Preston said, though there was a lighter edge to his voice now. “This is probably his way of buying your affections.” 

She scowled at him. “Why would you go and ruin a perfectly good beer by bringing that up?”

“How much corn will you accept in return for your hand in marriage, General?”

“Do you want to be demoted? I have an opening for a bedpan scrubber back at the Castle.” She fought back her own smile. She had missed this camaraderie, even before the bombs fell. Maternity leave had kept her away from her buddies at the station. As much as a male-dominated environment could drive her crazy at times, she enjoyed the company of men.

“It’s a shame he is who he is,” Preston went on. “You two actually make a cute couple.”

“Oh, shut up.” She eyed Danse, who was trying and failing not to laugh. “And don’t you start.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Preston chuckled. “Although, now that I think about it, you _were_ staring off into space an awful lot after he left yesterday. Is somebody getting distracted?”

He was only joking, but that was no laughing matter to Joanna. Not when she had come perilously close to doing... what she had thought about doing last night. 

Danse was grinning now. “Actually, Garvey, I did notice that she started fixing her hair when she saw the Vertibird arrive today.”

“Well now, since you mention it...”

Joanna folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at them. Time for the gloves to come off. “Okay boys, are we really gonna go there?” she said in a voice sweet as honey. “Because I’m not so _distracted_ that I haven’t noticed the way you two look at each other. Even when you’re arguing.”

The next few seconds were precious. Preston and Danse both froze, open mouthed, staring at her in horror. Then Preston started to glance at Danse, only to quickly realise that would be a bad idea, so he started coughing instead.

“Just because—That doesn’t mean—” Danse stammered as his neck and ears turned a lovely shade of crimson. He set his eyebrows in a firm line and said, “Speaking to someone without looking at them would be impolite. Whatever you’re implying is preposterous.”

Joanna smiled serenely. “My mistake,” she said, then got up from the table and left them stuck with each other and a stifling cloud of awkwardness.

 


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning dawned bleak and grey over Sanctuary, and Joanna woke with a faint chill of fear in her heart. Today she and Danse would return to the Prydwen. Tomorrow their mission would begin. Apprehension twisted in her gut as she dragged herself from her bed.

At least the mood around town was more upbeat than her own. The promise of sustainability had lifted spirits higher than Joanna had seen them; even Marcy had a new air of vitality as she directed the other farmhands to clear the best ground for Gillespie’s plants. While Joanna’s distractions kept her from fully sharing their happiness, she was grateful to see it. Whatever happened to her out there, at least she would know that Sanctuary had a chance.

After making her rounds of the settlement, she returned to her house. Danse had arranged for a Vertibird to collect them at fourteen hundred hours. Her pack was by the front door ready to go; all she had to do was change her clothes. First, though, she had to pay two last visits.

She went into Shaun’s room and stood over his crib for a little while, spinning the broken rocket mobile with one finger. She knew the crib would never be needed again. Shaun was too big now; he would need a proper bed. Different toys. But until he was in her arms, she couldn’t bring herself to part with anything in this room.

“It won’t be long, baby,” she said at last. “I’m gonna find a way to bring you home.”

She let herself out of the side door and went behind the house to the uneven patch of ground that had once been her garden. The ground was wet from yesterday’s rainfall, but she knelt down anyway beside a low mound of earth close to the sagging picket fence. An unpolished stone was laid at one end of the mound, with five words painstakingly chiselled into its surface.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. She let out a long sigh. “Well, looks like I’m heading down into Norwood in the next couple of days. That should be fun. Although it’s probably less threatening to my health now that it’s just an irradiated desert and not your mother’s lair.” She tilted her head in thought. “Having said that, if anyone was going to survive as a ghoul just to spite me, it would be her. If I see her around, I’ll tell her you said hi.”

She put a hand against the damp earth. Preston and Sturges had dug the grave, back when they had first come to Sanctuary, and Sturges had later carved the stone to replace the rough wooden cross Joanna had placed there.  

“You would have been so much better at all this than me,” she said softly. “Maybe you’d have had him back home by now.” She traced a circle with her fingers, the way she used to on his skin. “Sometimes I wish I’d been holding him that day.”

She hated herself for saying it. She would not wish this ache of loss upon anyone, least of all him. Nor would she want him to see what their world had become. But most of all she hated that sometimes she envied him, for being at peace while she could not be.

Off in the distance she heard the Vertibird heading their way.

“I have to go. Look after the place for me. I love you.” 

She kissed her fingertips and leaned forward to brush them against the words on the little headstone: _Nathan Mayes, Husband and Father._

She went inside and quickly changed into her Brotherhood uniform. Danse was waiting for her out in the road, ready and raring to go, passing his helmet back and forth between his armoured hands like a football. Her friends gathered to see them off. She had left her T-45 suit with Sturges, and he was like a child with a new toy. She passed along the line hugging everyone, and when she bent down to pet Dogmeat she pulled him close and briefly pushed her face into his fur to hide the moisture in her eyes. The dog had sensed that something sad was going on, and he whined softly.

“Be a good boy,” she whispered to him.

“Wish you’d let me look,” Mama Murphy said as Joanna kissed her cheek. “Coulda prepared you better.”

Joanna smiled and told her a lie. “I’m prepared, Mama.” She remembered what the old woman had said when she met Maxson, and longed to ask her what she had meant, but now was not the time.

She said goodbye to Preston last.

“Be careful out there,” he said. He looked at Danse finally. “That goes for you too, Paladin.”

Danse turned his dark eyes on Preston’s. He nodded. “Stay safe, Colonel.” The two of them had been studiously avoiding one another all morning after what Joanna had said the night before. She felt a stab of guilt about it. She’d only teased them to get them off her case; the last thing she wanted was to interrupt whatever was slowly blossoming between them. She’d just have to give them each a nudge in the right direction when the time came.

Joanna embraced Preston as tightly as she possibly could. He’d told her once that he wasn’t much of a hugger, but she was wearing him down. “If I get melted out there, you’re the new General, okay?” she said close to his ear.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he replied, and squeezed her even harder. “You’d better come back, or...”

Joanna released him and moved back to look him in the eye. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll let everyone use your comic book collection as toilet paper.”

“As if. You love _The Unstoppables_ more than I do.”

Danse nudged her to say that it was time to go. His helmet was on now, all business, and she wished she could steal some of his confidence. They boarded the Vertibird and it lifted off out of Sanctuary and away, until her home was no longer in sight. She had no way of knowing when she would see it again.

*

From the moment she and Danse set foot on the Prydwen’s flight deck, they were kept too busy for her to worry about much. They were summoned immediately to a meeting in Scribe Neriah’s laboratory for their first mission briefing, where Neriah, Ingram and Cade were already waiting. Joanna was intrigued to note that Proctor Teagan was nowhere to be seen, and in his place was a Knight Captain named Gavil. He seemed unused to the stench of molerat dung that permeated the entire deck, and he looked quite ill. A long table was set up behind them, spread with an array of supplies: jars, IV bags, packs of powder, ammunition, fusion cores and other items and gadgets that Joanna could not identify.

Ingram turned and greeted them. “Paladin; Knight. Elder Maxson will be with us as soon as—Ah, here he is now.”

Joanna turned at the sound of brisk footsteps on the metal floor. Maxson approached with a particularly deep scowl on his face, hands behind his back. His manner was brusquely formal as he greeted each of them. His eyes passed over Joanna without pause as though that strangely tender moment in Sanctuary had never happened.

He launched straight into the business of the meeting. “The two of you will depart from the Prydwen tomorrow morning at zero eight hundred hours in order to make the most of the daylight. A Vertibird will drop you as close to the edge of the Glowing Sea as possible. Your primary objective is to locate Doctor Virgil, and if he is found alive, to extract information regarding the Institute. You are permitted to use any means necessary.”

What did that mean, Joanna wondered. That they were allowed to torture the man? The idea left bitterness in her throat. Would she be prepared to go that far for Shaun? She thought back to her showdown with Kellogg. She would have done anything to him to get what she needed. And for the first and only time in her life, she had taken pleasure in killing a man. But Kellogg had murdered Nate and stolen her son. From what little they knew about Virgil, all the man had done was flee the Institute, their common enemy. She prayed that he would give them what they needed willingly.

“You have been allocated supplies to last you fourteen days,” Maxson went on. “Therefore if you have not succeeded in locating the target within seven days of your departure, you are to return and summon transport back to headquarters. Under no circumstances are you to deviate from this order.” He paced the length of the table. “Since our knowledge of the area around Ground Zero is extremely limited, this operation also grants us a rare opportunity to gather intel on what, if anything, has survived within the region. Provided it does not interfere with your primary objective, your secondary assignment is to map landmarks and resources on your Pip-boy device. Proctor Quinlan has requested that you also keep an audio log of your journey to record anything worthy of note.”

He stopped pacing and his voice softened a little. “I need not remind you of the dangers of this mission. However, the team gathered here has gone to great lengths to ensure that you will have the very best protection our technology can provide.”

He passed them over to Scribe Neriah, who guided them through their strict schedule of daily X-111 doses, with Cade in support to relate the horrors that radiation would exact upon their bodies were they fool enough not to follow her instructions to the letter. The scribe then demonstrated how to use the portable water purifier and mix the powdered nutritional drink that would provide most of their sustenance. Their energy expenditure would be higher due to the extra weight added to their power armour and the demands of the environment, and their daily calorie intake had been calculated accordingly.

Since the radiation levels were so high, Joanna and Danse could not afford to remove any part of their armour unless strictly necessary and so special measures had to be taken. Ingram explained that they would eat, drink and administer medication via tubes within their armour suits. Bathroom breaks required a similarly elaborate procedure.

Joanna took it all in in a daze, wondering how on earth a Boston cop had come to be standing in a metal dirigible being lectured on how to pee in power armour. Almost nothing surprised her any more. Danse was used to this way of life and took it all in his stride, asking the occasional question but mostly just listening to his orders like a good soldier. Meanwhile Maxson stood back, arms folded, and watched the proceedings. Every now and then Joanna thought she could feel his eyes on her, though she didn’t risk checking if she was right.

She cast an eye over the inventory stacked before them. “Can I just ask... How are we going to carry all of this?”

“You won’t,” Gavil pitched in. “Randy will.” He indicated a square crate next to the table. “Randy is an adapted Mister Handy robot. Normally he assists in the supply depot, but he’ll be accompanying you on your mission. He’s powered down for the moment, but you’ll meet him in the morning. He can carry supplies, assist in combat and help repair armour.”

“We’ll also fit your Pip-boy to him,” Ingram told Joanna. “That way, there’s a better chance that any intel you gather can still be returned to us if both of you are killed in action.”

Well, _that_ certainly took the wind out of Joanna’s sails. “Are you sure you even need us to go along?” she said lamely. “Sounds like ol’ Randy’s got it covered.” She glanced at Danse, who was unfazed.

“If a mindless machine could be trusted with mission this sensitive, then believe me, I would not need to risk my soldiers’ lives,” Maxson growled.

Joanna looked at him, but he had already turned away.


	9. Chapter 9

Joanna sat behind a curtain in her underwear while Cade poked and prodded. He monitored her heart rate and blood pressure and all manner of other functions with instruments old and new. When he was done with that, he poked and prodded her some more with questions to evaluate her psychological state. She answered as honestly as she dared. Cade hummed and jotted on a clipboard and gave her a couple of shots. She appeared to be in full working order, though he instructed her to hydrate as much as possible before the next day. Joanna dragged her uniform back on and headed straight for the power armour bay to meet Ingram.

The Proctor had their adapted T-60 suits ready to go. She talked them through the modifications she had made as they suited up. There was a tangle of feeding tubes that led down one arm, and the armour plating was the strongest the Brotherhood had to offer. Their helmets were also equipped with infrared sensors to help them locate the life form they were looking for—and avoid the ones they weren’t.

“We all know what the rad levels everywhere else have done to the wildlife,” Ingram said. “So we can only imagine what kind of buffed up nasties are living out there at Ground Zero.”

She made Joanna and Danse trudge back and forth around the entire ship, up and down stairs and along gangways for well over an hour to test for comfort and to flag up any mechanical or electronic issues. With the lead lining added inside the frame, the armour was even hotter than usual and Joanna’s jumpsuit was soaked with sweat by the time Ingram finally released them. So much for hydrating.

Her last stop before dinner was Proctor Quinlan’s office. Joanna had suspected the scribe was rather absent-minded, and that theory was lent further proof when she found him rifling through a filing cabinet trying to find blank holotapes for their mission.

“Have a look in that drawer on the bottom, will you?” he said, gesturing to the next cabinet along. “Where the devil did I leave—Ah, _that’s_ where I put issue fifty-nine!”

Joanna crouched down and looked through the drawer. Sure enough, there were a dozen or so holotapes clattering around in the bottom, gathering cat hair and dust.

“Are these okay to use?” she asked. “Some of them have writing on them.”

“Yes, yes, they’re quite all right. Any content has been backed up and deleted.” He found her an envelope to stash the tapes in. “Now remember, record any data as accurately as possible. There were a number of promising sites in that area before the war, and it’s possible some of them may have survived. I know it’s not _strictly_ within the remit of your current mission, but be assured that any technology or documentation you can recover would be of great benefit to the—Emmett! Don’t even _think_ about it!”

Joanna turned to see Quinlan’s cat poised to tip a can of purified water off the edge of his desk with one outstretched paw, and she quickly excused herself before all hell could break loose. She went to meet Danse in the mess hall, where for once they had permission to eat and drink as much as they could stomach. They would need the energy in the days ahead.

“So, on a scale of ‘we’re screwed’ to ‘maybe by the skin of our teeth’, how do you rate our chances out there?” she asked him as they took seats facing each other. It was a sweet relief to sit down at last.

Danse chuckled. “It’s understandable that you’re anxious,” he said. “But we’re better prepared than you think. All this talk of worst case scenarios is just good scientific practice. You’re more than capable. And don’t forget, I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”

Joanna smiled. “You’d better be.”

She and Danse had a funny relationship. Out in the field she always called him by name, never _sir_ , and they behaved as equals rather than superior and subordinate. She wasn’t entirely sure why he let her get away with it, to be honest, since Danse was such a stickler for the rules. Still, she was grateful that he was her commanding officer as well as her friend. He was firm and fair and had years of field experience to draw upon. She felt safer knowing he would be at her side.

Once Joanna had polished off a large plate of brahmin stew with Instamash and vegetables, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. She asked Danse what he had planned for the rest of the evening.

“I need to speak with Elder Maxson,” he said. “I still haven’t been fully debriefed on the meeting I missed the other day.”

“Yeah, I guess I should talk to him, too,” Joanna said. It was only right that she thanked him for what he had done for Sanctuary.

“You go first,” Danse said. He eyed the server at the bar. “Reed still has a box of Fancy Lads snack cakes with my name on it.” Joanna had already watched Danse demolish three helpings of stew and potatoes as well as some macaroni cheese and corn on the cob. He was a big guy. It took a lot of fuel to keep a tank like that going.

She sank the last of her Nuka Cola before heading to Maxson’s quarters. She knocked twice on his door and waited. After a moment, his voice called from inside.

“Come.”

Joanna pushed open the door, and was immediately confronted by two things that made her stop and stare in surprise. The first was that another young woman was already present, sitting in the same seat at the table that Joanna herself had occupied less than a week ago. The night Maxson had proposed.

The second was that the Elder was not wearing his coat. That in itself should not have been cause for alarm; of course he took off his coat. He was a human being. She had just never seen him without it, that was all, and because of that she had never before seen him in just his officer’s uniform. His black, tight-fitting officer’s uniform that stretched across his chest and shoulders as though he might tear out of it at any moment.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered at last. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” Maxson replied. He turned to the other woman—or girl, really, because she looked barely his age—and nodded to her. “That will be all for tonight, Scribe.”

The girl smiled and got to her feet, and Joanna could swear there was a rosy flush in her cheeks. Holy shit, maybe she’d been right. He really _did_ have a list. Had this girl just said yes to him? Joanna gave her a quick appraisal as she passed to get to the door. Young and pretty, with probably a good fifteen to twenty child-rearing years left in her. And she had a meekness about her demeanour that Joanna certainly did not; surely that alone made her more suitable for marriage to a man like Maxson. Not to mention she was a scribe, which helped to avoid all that inappropriate muddying of the ranks.

“Knight,” Maxson said, and she had the horrible feeling it was not the first time he had tried to get her attention. She turned back to face him as the door closed behind her. Unfortunately that meant contending with the tight black uniform again. “I hope all is well in Sanctuary,” he said.

“It is,” she replied. “Thank you, sir. In fact, that’s what I came to talk to you about.”

He came around to the head of the table and leaned on the end of it, right in front of her, and _god damn him,_ that meant she got the full length view. It had been obvious before that he was well built, but how much was him and how much was the bulk of the coat had been open to debate. His arms were huge, as big as Danse’s. And his _thighs_... She forced her gaze up to his face. He looked concerned.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done. For the settlers.”

He nodded. “I’m glad our offer was accepted,” he said. “But I didn’t act alone. You’re the one who showed me what the settlers needed.” He watched her carefully. She hoped he didn’t notice the way her eyes kept dipping to his mouth. It turned down in a frown. “Something seems to be troubling you.”

She tried to remember what she had been planning to say. _Shit_. She shouldn’t have come here. She should have just given a message to Danse. Being alone with Maxson after that day in Sanctuary was foolish of her, knowing the state she had been in afterwards. It was only chemistry, but powerful nevertheless. She cursed her hormones or whatever internal hocus pocus led her to fixate on this stupid man when she should be thinking of a thousand other things.

She cleared her throat. “I just have some questions, sir. If you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.” He folded his arms across his chest. Joanna could swear she heard the fabric of his jumpsuit creak as it strained around his biceps.

“Some of the residents are a little uncertain about the Brotherhood’s motives,” she replied. Looking at him provided too much distraction, so she fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall above his desk. “They’re wondering what will happen when you leave the Commonwealth.”

“And as a Knight of the Brotherhood, how did you answer them?”

“I wasn’t sure how to respond, sir. I don’t know what your long term plans are.”

“I explained my plans to you the first time we met,” he said. His voice had that rough edge to it now. “ _Knight_. Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Joanna met his eye, surprised at his sudden irritation. _For Christ’s sake, focus_ , she told herself. She had come here to thank him, not challenge him. “I don’t—It’s just, the people here have no prior dealings with the Brotherhood. And you told me you wouldn’t give handouts.”

He stared at her so hard she started to blush. That made her think of the pink-cheeked scribe who had just left. If the girl was Maxson’s betrothed, how long would it take for them to wed? How did one go about arranging a marriage on a warship? She had no idea how these things worked in the Brotherhood.

“This arrangement is not a handout,” he said. “Using the land in Sanctuary is an excellent opportunity for both parties. All of us will benefit from the new crops.”

 _Focus focus focus_. “And when the Brotherhood is no longer here to need them?”

“Do you think I would send soldiers to tear up the crops and leave people hungry?” he demanded.

“You think I’m being ungrateful,” Joanna stammered. “I assure you, I’m not. But after what happened with Knight Goody—”

“Goody was the exception, not the rule, and I made an example of him as a result of his actions.” Maxson glared at her.

“Understood. But it’ll take time to earn people’s trust. They know you came here for war. That doesn’t exactly put anyone’s mind at ease.”

“And who do you suppose we are going to war for?” he snapped. “We will defeat the Institute for the people of the Commonwealth. Not for our own glory.”

He was coiled as tight as a spring. Joanna couldn’t comprehend his reaction. She had been more outspoken than this the other day in Sanctuary, but he had listened calmly then. Perhaps it was the vibrations of the Prydwen making them crazy. She was tense, too. It sent her mind to dangerous places.

“When we first met, I told you that I care about the people here. I’m still not convinced you believe that.”

“I think you _do_ care,” she replied, exasperated. “But why do you even give a damn what I think? I’m just a Knight. Or is all of this your misguided way of trying to woo me?”

She knew she had gone too far the moment she said it from the look of cold fury in his eyes. His broad frame stiffened. “You must have a very low opinion of me, or a high opinion of yourself, if you assume that my actions were borne of some attempt to buy your affections. Do you think I would play with people’s lives in order to get what I want?” 

God, she was too tired for this shit. She didn’t need it and she certainly hadn’t started it. He was the one who’d made that ridiculous proposal, who’d overstepped the boundaries between them not once but several times.

“No,” she said. “You don’t need to. You’ve been given everything you want your whole goddamn life.”

He stood suddenly, and in an instant her heart was in her throat. Her eyes flickered down his body. In three steps he could have her pressed up against the door. Whether he would kiss her or strangle her was undecided.

She would never know what he might have said or done, though, because at that moment there was a knock on the door behind her. Joanna all but jumped out of her skin.

Maxson wrenched his eyes from her. “Who is it?”

“Paladin Danse, sir.”

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch Maxson in his proud, bearded face, but she did none of those things. Instead she gritted out a _Goodnight, sir,_ and tore open the door, shoving past a bewildered Danse as she fled.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so so much for the feedback and support so far! Comments = author fuel. 
> 
> Also feel free to come gush to me about hot Brotherhood dudes (or anything really) on [my tumblr](http://fancyladssnacks.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

_“...our best days are yet to come.”_

Joanna’s body was numb from the cold metal floor under her ass and the steel legs of the armour at her back, but the words still cut into her. She lifted the hem of her tank top to wipe at her eyes. Her left hand gripped the power armour frame so she could rest her head against the Pip-boy on her wrist, soaking in as much sound as possible from the tinny speaker.

 _“There will be changes, sure, things we'll need to adjust to,”_ Nate’s voice went on. _“I'll rejoin the civilian workforce, you'll shake the dust off your law degree...”_

Law degree. He did insist on calling it that, no matter how often she corrected him. She’d been studying for a Masters in criminal justice, but had to put it on hold when she found out she was pregnant. She had earned her Bachelors a couple of years earlier before she went for the promotion to detective, attending night classes and burning the midnight lamp to finish papers long after Nate had gone to bed. She would give it all back in an instant to have a few more minutes curled beside him, warming her cold feet on his.

_“But everything we do, no matter how hard, we do it for our family.”_

She squeezed her eyes closed and repeated those words to herself like a mantra. Family. Shaun. That was all that mattered. She couldn’t keep allowing herself to be distracted so foolishly. Being around Arthur Maxson was making her act recklessly.

Her anxieties for the days ahead and the disastrous exchange with Maxson earlier had rendered sleep impossible, no matter how bone tired she felt. She was a mess. And so she had crept barefoot from her bed down to the power armour bay. She had a letter to write and the tape to listen to, and both required privacy. They also both hurt, but she needed the focus they would give her.

On the tape, Shaun gurgled and chuckled in the background. When she heard his voice she could almost feel him. The weight of his wriggling body propped on her knee as she kissed his soft head and stroked a hand over his round tummy. The dazzling little life that she and Nate had made. She curled tighter, aching at the absence of her child. He was part of her body. Part of her soul.

_“Bye bye... say bye bye...”_

_Don’t_ , she thought, touching the letter that lay in her lap. _Not yet. I can’t._ Shaun was growing up so fast without her, and she knew he had long since forgotten her face and her touch. _But please, please, don’t say goodbye to me yet. I’m coming for you. Hold on a little longer_.

The recording came to an end and she was left once again with the dull idling roar of the Prydwen around her. She ran back to the start of the tape and played it again. If she closed her eyes, the voices seemed clearer.

She heard a noise approaching, not footsteps but a strange _knock knock_ along the metal floor. She quickly wiped her eyes and stopped the tape. She peered around the legs of her power armour. It was Proctor Ingram, out of her power armour frame and dressed like Joanna in grey Brotherhood issue shorts and tank, moving along on a pair of metal crutches clipped around her forearms. Her limbless lower body swung between the crutches as she made her halting way through the armour bay.

Joanna was mostly hidden behind the T-60 suit on its rack, so she held her breath and waited for Ingram to pass by. But the other woman turned and headed straight for her. When Ingram looked up and spotted Joanna, there was a moment of frozen awkwardness as they regarded one another. Joanna realised how she must look, curled on the floor like a child, wiping tears and snot from her face. She saw a similar flicker of shame cross Ingram’s face. Embarrassment at being seen without her armour. Her left leg was almost completely gone, and the gnarled stump of her right thigh poked out from her shorts.

Joanna offered her a sheepish smile. “Hi,” she said, her voice croaky from crying. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be in here.”

Ingram glanced behind her as though contemplating whether to just leave and pretend this encounter had never happened, but then she swayed her way over to her desk. She dropped into her chair and rummaged in one of the drawers, then used one crutch to scoot the seat towards Joanna.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” She held out a clean rag.

“No. There’s just too much going through my head.” Joanna shuffled out of her hiding place and took the rag. She dabbed at her puffy eyes. “How about you?”

“I never sleep all that well. Plus I’m a workaholic. Thought I might look over the suits one more time, see if anything needed a last-minute tweak.” She watched Joanna blow her nose. “You want me to go?”

“No, no, it’s all right.” Joanna looked down at the Pip-boy on her wrist. “I was just listening to an old holotape. It was—My husband made it for me.”

Ingram’s sharp eyes met hers. After a moment she simply gave a nod of understanding. “Sometimes you just need to hear their voice,” she said.

Joanna nodded. “It makes it better and worse at the same time,” she said, mopping at her eyes again.

“I get that.” Ingram glanced across the room. She was quiet for a minute before speaking again. “You know that power armour you were so interested in the other day?” Joanna followed the line of her gaze to the shining Sentinel armour standing proudly in its bay. Ingram paused, debating how much to say. “It belonged to my wife.”

Joanna heard her own little sorrowful gasp. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Ingram shrugged one muscular shoulder. “It’s easier than it used to be. But even now, there are days I can’t bear to see it. I can’t bear not to, either.” She looked back at Joanna. “A little like your holotape.”

“So she was a Sentinel?”

“She was more than that,” Ingram replied with a distant smile. “She was Elder, before Ar—Before Maxson. But that was always her favourite suit.”

“Wow.” Joanna stared at the armour, trying to imagine the woman who had once worn it. “What was she like?”

“A lioness,” Ingram replied, and her scarred face was touched with something beautiful when she spoke the word. “She was a terrific soldier. And a great leader. But the Elders on the West Coast never really supported her. They’d lost faith in her father before he died, and no matter what Sarah did, she was always going to live in that shadow. Bunch of goddamn politicians.” She sighed. “Maxson, on the other hand, always had their blessing because of the good ol’ family name. But there’s more of Sarah in him than any blood ancestor.”

Joanna turned to the Proctor, intrigued. “They were close?”

“Are you kidding me? They were like family. Sarah and her father all but raised him from being a boy.”

“What happened to her?”

Ingram sat up straighter in her chair, rolling tension out of her shoulders. “She was killed in battle,” she said. She gazed at her wife’s armour. “Always swore she’d go out that way, and she was too damned stubborn to be proven wrong. She was far too young.”

Joanna’s heart ached. It seemed that everyone she met had lost so much.

“How about your guy?” Ingram asked.

“Nate was military, too. An army captain. But that’s not how I lost him. He was murdered, trying to protect our son.”

“Shit,” Ingram breathed. “And your boy?”

“The Institute has him.”

Ingram just stared for a moment. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I guess that explains why you’re so determined to go on this mission.”

Joanna nodded. “Do you have children?”

“No. We might have done, if Sarah hadn’t—Well, you know. It’s a shame. There’s never enough kids around, anywhere really, but especially in the Brotherhood.” Ingram rolled her chair back to her desk and took a bottle from the bottom drawer. “Not a word to Cade,” she said as she shunted back over to Joanna. She held out the bottle. It was cognac. “But at least this’ll help you sleep.”

“Thank you,” Joanna said. She took a short gulp of the brandy and gasped at the welcome warmth in her throat.

They passed the bottle back and forth a couple more times until Joanna didn’t feel so numb any more, inside or out. She picked up the envelope from the floor beside her. She popped the holotape out of her Pip-boy and slid it in next to the folded letter. Shaun would never know Nate, but he could at least know his voice.

Ingram screwed the cap back onto the cognac and rested it in her lap. “Is that for your boy?”

“Yes,” Joanna replied. “You know, in case I don’t make it back. Do you think, if the Brotherhood makes it into the Institute somehow, that you could try to find him and give him this?”

Ingram looked from her to the envelope. “I’d love to,” she said. “But I’m not the best person to ask. I don’t tend to get out on field missions a whole lot. For obvious reasons. I’m sure Elder Maxson would help, if you asked him.”

“That may not be such a good idea,” Joanna sighed. “He and I... don’t get along too well.”

Ingram smiled. “I know he may not be the easiest man in the world to get on with, but he is a good one. He’s very committed to looking after his people. You can trust him with this.”  

“Okay,” Joanna said, running her fingers over Shaun’s name. “I might.”

*

Joanna didn’t sleep for very long, but when she awoke the next morning it was with a renewed sense of peace. That being said, she was kept busy from the moment her feet hit the floor. She washed as thoroughly as she could—it would be a long time before her body would again know the joys of clean water—and ate a large breakfast with Danse, then they went to run through their inventory one last time before the equipment was loaded aboard the Vertibird.

She had twenty minutes to spare before heading to the power armour station to suit up for the mission, so Joanna went looking for Maxson. He wasn’t on the command deck or in his quarters, so on a whim she went out onto the flight deck. She found him there speaking with Lancer Captain Kells and the Vertibird pilot. His coat was back on, thankfully. Rested or not, she would rather do without that distraction. She hung back until they had finished, the letter to Shaun clutched in one hand. Before asking Maxson for the favour, she would need to clear the air between them.

There was a stiff wind blowing, making the whole airship sway back and forth on its mooring ropes. It tugged at her hair and cut through her clean uniform. She hugged herself tightly. At long last the pilot headed for his craft and Kells departed to the bridge. Maxson headed toward her and she bowed her head in greeting.

“Good morning, sir. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t easy to look him straight in the eye, but she did. “I wanted to apologise for the way I spoke to you yesterday,” she said. “I know it’s no excuse, but I think the strain of the last few days had gotten to me. So, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

He seemed to consider her words for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. You’re under a great deal of pressure, Knight. And I recognise that through certain actions, I have added to that unnecessarily. So for that, I too apologise.”

She wasn’t sure, but she suspected he was referring to the proposal. “Thank you,” she replied.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Surprisingly calm,” she said with a smile. “I felt much more anxious knowing today was coming up. Now that it’s actually here, I’m okay.”

“I have faith in you,” he said firmly. “As I have faith in everyone involved. With Paladin Danse at your side and the Brotherhood’s technology to support you, I have no doubt this mission will be a success.”

The fervour of his words was reassuring. When he spoke, it was easy to believe him. “I wondered if I could ask a favour of you, sir.”

When he nodded, Joanna held up the sealed envelope containing the letter and holotape. “Just in case I _don’t_ return, and you’re able to find my son, it would mean a lot to me if you would give him this letter.”

Maxson stepped closer and reached out his hand. She hesitated, then passed it over. His fingers brushed her hand as she did so, and for a moment she couldn’t bring herself to withdraw. She held her palm over his with the letter pressed between them.

“You have my word,” he said, and his thumb traced a line along the edge of her palm. “I’ll keep it safe until you return. And then we’ll find him together. That is a promise.”

She had a sudden urge to reach up and kiss him on the cheek, but couldn’t risk it with staff walking about on the deck nearby. Instead, she squeezed his hand briefly in hers.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. Footsteps approached along the deck, so she pulled her hand away, leaving the letter with him. “And—For what it’s worth, I don’t have a low opinion of you.”

He smiled at her then. It was only the slightest upturn at the edge of his mouth, but without doubt a smile. Not a common occurrence, if Scribe Haylen was to be believed.

“Duly noted, Knight,” Maxson said. “Now go get ready. I’ll be here to see you off. Godspeed, soldier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for the lovely comments. They absolutely keep me going when I get stuck writing (and deleting, and staring endlessly at my screen, and rewriting) this. @__@
> 
> Also please be assured there WILL BE KISSING. Just... not yet. I too am seriously impatient for them to just make out already. -_-; I have the whole thing plotted out but it's taking longer than expected to write each part. Please forgive my evil cockblocking ways!


	11. Chapter 11

Time here was meaningless. It had been three days, almost four, since they left the Prydwen. But it may as well have been an eternity. Each day stretched on and on like the endless landscape, swallowing up what meagre progress they made. The radiation had been well accounted for, but not the terrain. In some places a sickly orange swamp sucked at their boots while in others the ground rose into jagged mountains. On the second day they had crossed vast dunes of debris where drifts of twisted metal heaped higher than any junkyard had threatened to give way under their feet and swallow them forever.

They were no closer to finding Dr Virgil. The laser-burned radscorpion corpse they had found on the first day gave good indication that the scientist had passed through, but that had been the only breadcrumb in the trail so far. Their infrared scans had helped them to avoid many a mutated enemy, but detected no human life. Recon Team Dante, status: lost in purgatory.

It was late at night now, though not dark. Here it was never dark. It reminded Joanna of what Nate had told her about the midnight sun during his tour of duty in Anchorage, how unearthly it had seemed. If Alaska was unearthly then the Glowing Sea was a full on science fiction double feature. The light radiating from the cracked ground made the earth itself seem alive, though of course it was not. It was all dead. This land was death itself. And she and Danse were fragile little mortals encased in steel to keep all that overwhelming death on the outside. Sealed inside her suit with only the sound of her own breath echoing around her helmet for company, Joanna felt like an astronaut in one of the old Sunday night _Theatre of Wonders_ episodes she had watched with her parents as a kid. It was easy to believe she was on a different world. But then her eye would fall on something that jolted her back to the reality of what this place once was. A flattened road sign or the gnarled chassis of a truck. On the first day they had found a church half sunk into the ground and riddled with feral ghouls, and as Joanna had ducked out of the blast radius of a Brotherhood grenade, she’d remembered her little joke about Nate’s mother. This church could have been the very one Iris Mayes had attended with her friends. There was no way of knowing. The area had been too twisted and transformed by the bombs for Joanna to overlay the map in her memory onto what lay around her now.

She perched on a heap of rubble under the cover of a section of crumbling freeway. Danse was deeper in the concrete cavern behind her, sleeping while she stayed on watch. Sleep; now there was a new and baffling problem to contend with. Danse was a seasoned pro at all of this, and had demonstrated the best technique. It was extremely ill-advised to lie down in a full suit of power armour, and sitting flat on the ground was almost as troublesome, so they had to find places where they could prop themselves on a low drift of garbage and either lean back against a wall for support, or put their suit in lockdown mode in a reclining position so they could relax without it moving. Joanna was nervous of using lockdown, scared of being rendered frozen and vulnerable if an attack should come in the night. The discomfort and danger made it almost impossible to doze off, and she would find herself repeatedly snapping awake with a start as her limbs twitched and protested within their metal casing. Eventually she would pass out through exhaustion, only to wake an hour or so later with half her body numb and the other half throbbing in pain.

This place was desolate enough by day, but Joanna felt it more keenly in the hours when Danse was not beside her. She didn’t think she had ever felt so painfully alone in her life. Even Randy, their robotic companion, was out patrolling a wide perimeter around them. By day he scouted ahead, scanning for signs of life and carrying their equipment in a supply crate slung in a rope mesh from his arms. Now the crate sat by Joanna’s feet and her Pip-boy in her lap. She had just finished what constituted a meal, a chalky and tasteless serving of liquid nutrition via the tube that poked into her helmet. She fumbled the Pip-boy in her metal fingers. She didn’t have many words in her right now, and didn’t feel like trying to make a report. Danse was better at that anyway. As an experienced recon operative, he knew exactly what needed to be documented. Plus Joanna liked to hear his voice rumbling along nearby as she was trying to get to sleep.

She turned the dial to the radio function, hoping that something familiar would get through, but there was nothing more than a few odd notes buried under an ocean of static. She craved human noise. Classical piano, advertisements for toilet bleach, someone banging pots and pans together; anything. That Travis kid stammering his way between oldies would be poetry to her ears. She thought longingly of Nate’s holotape, sealed in an envelope aboard the Prydwen. She breathed out a sigh. Maybe she would record that log after all, just to fill the silence. She flipped open the supply crate next to her and felt around for a new holotape. As she was fumbling it into the slot on the Pip-boy, something caught her eye and she yanked it back out. She angled the tape so the screen lit it more clearly. The faded handwritten label read _Interview #2_. Curious, she slotted it in and pressed the play button, not for a moment expecting anything to be on it. Proctor Quinlan had insisted that he had erased all the tapes.

There was a low crackle, and she held the Pip-boy closer to the earpiece on her helmet.

 _“So, where were we.”_ Quinlan’s unmistakeable accent drifted through the speaker. Joanna smiled in delight. _“The ruins of Bethesda?”_

 _“A little south of Bethesda, yes,”_ a second voice replied, male and somewhat muffled. Joanna cranked the volume a little higher. She was far enough from Danse that it shouldn’t disturb him, but just in case he should wake, she didn’t think he would approve of her listening to potentially classified documents. She couldn’t care less about the content. She just wanted to hear voices.

_“And—sorry, sir, just for clarification’s sake—what year was this?”_

_“Early eighty-one.”_ Joanna’s eyes widened in surprise as she recognised the voice as Maxson’s.

_“So you were... fourteen?”_

_“No, I must have been thirteen.”_

_“Just thirteen years old. Remarkable. Anyway, please, continue.”_

Maxson sighed. _“Everyone already knows this story, Edward. I don’t see why you want to include it.”_

_“Sir, this is exactly the story people want to hear. The moment their leader passed into manhood. One of your most celebrated achievements.”_

_“That’s my point, it was no achievement,”_ Maxson replied gruffly. _“Young died from his injuries. I almost had my face torn off. I’m not particularly fond of celebrating the day that took a fine soldier’s life and left me looking like_ this _.”_

 _“So this is your chance to tell it in your own words,”_ Quinlan coaxed. _“Not the version the Western cults like to propagate.”_

Maxson made a noise of disgust at the mention and muttered something Joanna couldn’t make out. He grudgingly continued his story. _“It wasn’t even fully grown,”_ he said. _“And it was already weakened by Paladin Young’s fire as well as my own. I merely finished the job.”_ There was a pause for a few seconds. _“It reached me as I was reloading. Young was already down. Its first swipe took my helmet off, and the second—well, you can see what the second did. I was on the ground. Couldn’t see much because of the blood, but I was able to fire off the last few shots. It died, and I didn’t. I was lucky. That’s all there is to say.”_

Joanna listened in keen interest. She had heard the story about Maxson versus the deathclaw on several occasions. Danse had mentioned it to her with a swell of admiration in his voice, and it was common gossip among the soldiers aboard the Prydwen. It was part of the legend of King Arthur Maxson, and he bore the evidence every day in the scar across his cheek. Had she done him a disservice by assuming he was proud of it?

Quinlan had taken the hint and moved on to ask about another episode from Maxson’s life. This one centred on a man named Shepherd whose army was gathering power in the Capital Wasteland. Maxson’s words were tinged with hatred when he spoke of the enemy.

As he described the troops’ movements his voice gained urgency. A decoy unit had launched a ranged frontal attack on Shepherd’s army while a second infiltrated the base through a weak spot in the barricades and detonated explosives, causing chaos and destroying Shepherd’s weapons stockpile. A third unit, led by Maxson himself, had then swept in from the rear to devastate the remaining enemy and execute Shepherd. Every step had been planned with expert precision. Joanna could see why others spoke so glowingly of Maxson’s skill as a tactician. She tried to picture him as a fifteen-year-old Paladin, leading the defeat of a small army.

 _“Did you ever consider capturing Shepherd, rather than executing him?”_ Quinlan enquired, a little hesitantly.

 _“Never,”_ came Maxson’s gruff reply. _“Not after Sarah. Not after Glade and Ennis and all the others who fell at Anacostia alone. What purpose could a supermutant serve as a prisoner?”_

Joanna adjusted her earlier image. A fifteen-year-old Paladin who had led the defeat of a _supermutant_ army.

_“There were those who argued that slaying him was a risky move. That vengeance begets vengeance.”_

_“Off the record? Yes, it was vengeance. I promised Dee Ingram I would take him out, and I never make a promise I do not intend to keep. But aside from my own motivations, Shepherd was too dangerous alive, even captured. Other mutants were drawn to him. He needed to be crushed swiftly and without hesitation. It was the right choice.”_

Quinlan made a sympathetic noise, and there was a sound of rustling papers. When he spoke again there was a hint of mischief in his tone. _“May I be so impertinent as to ask if the rumour was true? That you disobeyed a direct order from Elder Grimshaw by attacking Shepherd?”_

Maxson let out a short, soft laugh. _“All I’m prepared to say is that Grimshaw took some convincing that the strategy was sound,”_ he said.

_“And you convinced him... by going ahead and doing it anyway?”_

_“No comment,”_ Maxson said wryly. _“And make that off the record, too. I don’t want my entry in the Codex to be undermined by rumours of insubordination.”_

Quinlan chuckled. _“Well, I suppose you were able to prove yourself right to Grimshaw, at least.”_

_“I had nothing to prove to a man who served as Elder for forty-one days.”_

_“So with Shepherd slain, how long was it before the West Coast El—”_

The tape cut Quinlan off abruptly in mid-flow, snapping Joanna back to the present moment. She quickly rummaged in the crate for the other holotapes, inspecting the labels in the light from her console. She tried playing a couple that seemed promising, but they all appeared to be blank. Disappointed, she put the Maxson tape back in and played it again from the beginning. She was so captivated by the familiar voices and the Elder’s story that it wasn’t until the tape ended a second time that it even occurred to her to feel guilty for listening to it. It was certainly confidential. Maxson had asked for some of it to be omitted from Quinlan’s biography. But, well, it wasn’t _her_ fault the Proctor hadn’t erased the tape. And she wasn’t planning on sharing the details with anyone.

She was listening for a third time when there was a sound from behind her, and she quickly shut off the recording. She turned to see Danse heading out of the shadows.

“Hey,” she said. “Sleep well?”

“Adequately,” he replied, voice tinny from the speaker in his helmet. “Were you making a log?”

She glanced at the Pip-boy in her hands. “Uh, no. I was going to, but I... couldn’t concentrate.”

“Never mind. You get some sleep and I’ll take over. You’ve eaten?”

“If you can call it that.”

“And taken your latest dose?”

“Yes, boss. I ran the water purifier, too.”

“Excellent.” Danse crouched down over the supply crate to start preparing his liquid meal.

While his attention was diverted, Joanna slid the interview tape out of the player and concealed it in one armoured hand, then got to her feet so Danse could take her place. Her body ached and griped with every move. She passed Danse the Pip-boy and he bid her goodnight, though she would be lucky to get even two hours of unbroken rest. She retreated into the shadows under the old expressway and attempted to settle back into the least uncomfortable position. After a few minutes, Danse’s low tones drifted through to her.

“This is Senior Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel Recon Team Dante. Time is oh-one-thirty hours...”

Joanna closed her eyes against the faint glow of the sky and pictured the places she wished she were instead. Sanctuary. The Castle. The Prydwen.


	12. Chapter 12

Joanna breathed out a curse as she peeled the sleeve of her jumpsuit down her arm. The inside of her elbow was red and raw. Grimacing, she tugged the tight cuff off her wrist and went to work on the other sleeve.

Her body was a sore, peeling mess after five interminable days of being trapped in her armour, sweating into her uniform under the layers of lead and steel. Every movement had rubbed and chafed at her nerve endings. On top of that, she _stank_. The smell got worse the more skin she uncovered.

She glanced over her shoulder to check on Danse. He was sitting on the floor of the cave next to Virgil’s makeshift bed. She had missed her friend’s face so much that she felt like walking over there and pinching his stubbled cheeks, but the scowl he wore deterred her from even joking about it. He sat in his dirty uniform with his rifle across his lap, training his glare on the figure moving about on the other side of the cave. It didn’t look as though there would be an outbreak of violence for the time being, so Joanna turned back to start washing.

Virgil had provided a large metal bowl and some water as well as an old blanket and a lab coat that no longer fit his mutated body. Joanna peeled her suit all the way off, hissing when some of the skin behind her knees came away with the fabric, and started to splash herself with cold water. It felt like paradise. The contents of the bowl were dark grey by the time she had rinsed off the worst of her sweat and grime. She set their portable purifier running again and hung her damp uniform from the metal shelf. She wished she could launder it, but they probably wouldn’t be here long enough for it to dry. She wasn’t sure what would be worse: going naked inside her power armour, or having to put on that filthy garment again in the morning. She slid the lab coat on over her bra and underwear and went to join Danse.

“The water should be ready for you in ten minutes,” she said, lowering herself to sit beside him.

Danse just nodded. He had the Pip-boy in his hands now, frowning at the screen as he scrolled around the map they had updated in as much detail as possible on their long and meandering trek. They would set off on their return journey in the morning. Virgil had kindly offered to let them stay here for the night and get some sleep. Joanna had all but bitten his hand off to accept. Even Danse, who was less than happy to be in the presence of a supermutant, seemed relieved to have a sheltered place to rest. He still insisted that they sleep in shifts, though.

Danse tilted the Pip-boy for her to see. “If we head east and then northeast we should meet up with the old road,” he said, running a finger along the proposed route. “It doesn’t save us many miles, but we lost a great deal of time on the way here to difficult terrain. The road will provide the best surface for walking on. We’ll have to remain extremely vigilant of deathclaws, but the robot can scout ahead.” Randy sat nearby, spherical body resting atop his folded limbs like a sleeping octopus. They had deactivated him for the time being to save on fuel. “All going well, I estimate we could make it back in three days instead of five.”

Joanna’s heart skipped excitedly. Three days. It almost sounded easy. “What time should we set off?”

“Zero-five-hundred hours. I can complete a maintenance check on our power armour while you sleep, and we’ll be ready to go.”

“Five a.m.? That gives us barely four hours of sleep each.”

“You take six hours. I’ll be fine with two.”

“Danse, come on. You need to take advantage while we have somewhere safe to rest.”  

“Two hours will be perfectly adequate,” he said. He was staring at the back of Virgil’s head again. “I—struggle to sleep in places like this.”

The doctor sat at his desk in the higher section of the cave, tapping laboriously at a terminal keyboard. It was fortunate he was still alive. She and Danse had both raised their weapons in alarm when they had finally entered the cave and seen a green-skinned giant looming in the shadows where they had expected a man. Then the creature had called out in a voice unlike any Joanna had heard from a supermutant’s mouth before. She had known then that this was the man they were looking for, and realised the extreme measures he must have taken in order to flee the Institute and survive the Glowing Sea.

Getting Danse to stand down had taken great effort. His face had been concealed by his helmet but she could picture the hatred in his eyes. She had seen it before, at Fort Strong and other supermutant hives around the city. In that moment he had forgotten about the Institute and seen only a monster. Joanna had had to hiss a reminder that Virgil was their only path to Shaun, and drag on his arm with both of hers to get him to lower his rifle.  

She watched him now, seeing the same disgust in his eyes. “He’s not the one who took Cutler,” she said gently.

“He may as well be,” Danse replied, not bothering to keep his voice down. “You heard what he said. He experimented on people. Turned them into mutants. The fact that he was a man and he did that to other human beings makes him even more despicable.”

“And he knew it was wrong. That’s why he's here instead of there. He risked a lot to leave the Institute. Let’s not condemn him now he’s finally made the right choice.” Danse appeared unconvinced. In all honesty, Joanna was struggling with the knowledge of what Virgil had done, too. But he had given them something. Their journey had not been in vain. “He must hate them too for what they’ve done,” she urged. “He’s helping us to find Shaun and put an end to those bastards.”

“That’s if he’s even telling us the truth.”

“I believe him. I saw a Courser in Kellogg’s memories, remember. He took Shaun, just disappeared into thin air with him. If we find a Courser, we find a key to the Institute.”

Danse finally looked at her. “Have you ever met a Courser?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. And none of the soldiers who have lived to tell the tale. Coursers are by far the most dangerous of all synths.”

Joanna really needed his optimism right now. Her strength alone could not sustain them both. “That doesn’t sound like you, Danse,” she said, prodding his arm. “I don’t believe there’s any skull you can’t smash.”

His mouth quirked a little at that. “I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”

“And we just made it to the middle of the Glowing Sea. No one’s done that before either, right? We’re unstoppable.”

His smile was more convincing this time. “That we are, Knight.”

Joanna shuffled a little closer to him and propped her back against the wall of the cave, knees tucked up against her chest. Her stomach growled. She would have to mix up some of their vile protein shake in a minute, and take a shot of X-111. The rad levels were lower inside the cave, low enough for them to have clambered gratefully out of their power armour and breathe unfiltered air at long last, but they still needed to take their medicine.

“May I ask you a personal question?” she said, tilting her head up to look at Danse.

He leaned back beside her and stretched out his legs. “Go ahead.”

She lowered her voice. “Was Cutler... more than a friend to you?”

Danse’s lips parted and something skirted across his expression, painfully sad. After a moment all he replied was, “Why?”

“I just wondered. I get the feeling when you talk about him that you understand how I feel. About losing Nate.”

He looked down at his knees, frowning. “He—” When he didn’t go on, Joanna reached out a hand and touched his arm.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s all right. I just don’t talk about these things very often. In fact—I never talk about them.” He exhaled heavily. “Yes. He meant more to me than a friend. He wasn’t—That is, we weren’t together, as such. We... I’m not exactly sure what we were.” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper. “But I cared about him very much indeed.”

“I’m sorry, Danse.”

“Don’t be. What’s done is done.”

“But you’re still angry about it.”

“Of course I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being angry about it.”

Joanna nodded. “I understand.” She thought of Kellogg, and bile rose up in her throat. She pushed the thought of him away. “Has there been anyone else for you since then?”

“No. I’ve never met anyone else like him. I don’t know if I would want to. It would seem... disloyal.”

“Loving someone else doesn’t mean you’re replacing the one you lost,” she said quietly.  

“I know.” Danse fiddled with the dials on the Pip-boy for a moment, then put it on the ground beside him. “When we were in Sanctuary, you said... Well, you made an allusion about Colonel Garvey and myself.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You can call him by his first name, you know.”

“I—” He frowned. “I don’t know what there is to say. It’s unprofessional of me to speak with you like this.”

“I know you’re my CO, but you’re also one of the best friends I have,” she said. “I mean, you don’t have to talk to me about this. But if you want to, you can.”

Danse paused, lost in thought. “I’m not even certain there is anything between us. But I do... admire him.” He sighed. “I feel very foolish.”

“Why? It’s not foolish at all. Preston’s a wonderful man. And I know he’s attracted to you, too.”

Danse turned a delightful shade of pink under his layers of dirt. “Did he tell you that?”

“Not exactly, but I have eyes in my head, and there’s only one reason for a man to look at someone the way he looks at you.”

She took some enjoyment in the way Danse cleared his throat and tried not to smile. But after a minute he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “It’s useless to even speak of it. It’s not as though I could pursue a relationship with him.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Because the Brotherhood comes first. It always has, and it always will. I made that choice a long time ago.”

“I don’t see why that matters. You’re allowed to get involved with a civilian, aren’t you?”

“Technically, yes. But he is with the Minutemen. That would be seen as a conflict of interests.”

“I’m the General of the Minutemen, _and_ a Brotherhood Knight.”

“That may be, but—there are other things to consider. The Brotherhood won’t be here forever. Once the Institute is taken care of and the area has been stabilised, we will move on, either back to the Capital Wasteland or somewhere new.”

Joanna felt her heart grow heavy at his words. Of course he was right, and it should come as no surprise to her, but she had been so focused on finding Shaun that she had thought little about what would come after. That Danse would eventually leave. The Prydwen would soar out of the Commonwealth and off to its next war. Her plan had always been to take Shaun home to Sanctuary. To raise him in the heart of the community among her new friends.

She reached for Danse’s hand and laced her fingers through his, hoping he wouldn’t mind the intimacy of the gesture. His hand was big and strong and warm, like his personality. He had been such a huge presence in her life these past months. The gap he left would be equally vast.

“So what will you do, if you’re not planning on sweeping Preston off his feet? Find a cute Knight to chase around the deck?”

Danse chuckled. “Eventually I imagine I’ll settle down with someone and have children. It’s expected of high-ranking brothers and sisters to procreate.”

She let out an soft noise of exasperation. “What is it with you Brotherhood men and procreation? Is romance completely dead in the twenty-third century?”

“Duty is more important. It’s something we all accept. And I have no reason to complain. I would very much like to be a father.”  

“You’ll be an amazing dad,” Joanna told him. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “There’s really nothing like it in the world. Just—make sure you don’t have to compromise on who you want to be with, okay?”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “The purifier should be done,” he said. “You need to rest. I’ll wake you in a few hours. Sleep well, soldier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Danse! ;A; Okay the plan is one more chapter and then our dear Elder Tightpants is back on the scene. I can't wait. 
> 
> Thanks so, so much for all the comments you guys! Your support is amazing and however much you enjoy my words, I love reading yours even more. <3 And feel free to come hang out with me on my [tumblr](http://fancyladssnacks.tumblr.com/). Dorking about Fallout is basically my life now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I begin to diverge more dramatically from canon. I also heavily revised (read: made up) the geography of the Glowing Sea for storytelling purposes. 
> 
> WARNING: I am posting this largely unedited so please excuse any hideous errors/rambling until I can come back and tidy it up. I just really wanted to update tonight.

Since she had stepped out of the vault and into this godforsaken world, it seemed everyone had a different name for her.

_Initiate Mayes. Knight Mayes. Soldier._

_General._

_Mum._

_Blue._

Nick called her _Detective_. At least that one rang with familiarity.

Each meant something special to her. But the one thing no one called her was _Joanna_. And now she was going to die without anyone ever again speaking her name in love. She whispered it to herself inside her helmet, forming each syllable with cracked lips.

_Joanna._

_Jo._

_Sweetheart._

_Honey._

*

They started their return journey with optimism. Joanna had slept like the dead in Virgil’s cave, despite her body feeling like a sack of pummelled meat. The next morning they set off with renewed energy and a solid plan, and an addition to their party.

Joanna walked alongside Dr Virgil while Danse led a short distance away. Randy scouted far ahead, zipping back occasionally to report on the presence of hostiles. They made slow progress that first day as the terrain was uneven and the storms heavy. Heading due east took them far away from the Children of Atom’s settlement, to Joanna’s relief. She had been grateful for the assistance Mother Isolde had given them in locating Virgil, but their zealous talk and impossible existence right at the sickly heart of Ground Zero had left her with a deep unease. Danse was convinced they must all be synths to survive out there without protection, but had kindly refrained from slaughtering them all.

None of them spoke much by day, but that night while Danse slept nearby, Joanna sat with the doctor and asked him about the Institute. He had already told her he knew nothing about Shaun, though he claimed there was a young boy who lived with the director of the Institute; a man who called himself ‘Father’. The title made Joanna’s stomach churn. The only father Shaun had ever had was dead at the hands of this pretender. She looked forward to bringing an end to him.

Joanna suspected that Virgil knew more than he was letting on. She had heard countless men plead ignorance only to later cough up the truth in minute detail. Virgil was not exactly a man any more, and his distorted features were hard to read, but she sensed he had more to reveal. That was partly why she had argued so vehemently with Danse to allow Virgil to accompany them. If the doctor knew more about Shaun, she intended to coax the truth out of him, whether out here or back at the airport.

“What finally pushed you to leave?” Joanna asked him, trying a different tack. He’d said his research had disgusted him—as it damn well should. But it must have taken something dramatic for him to destroy his own humanity and choose this place over the relative safety of the Institute.

He didn’t answer her for a while, staring up at the clouded, technicolor sky. “I finally realised that Father wasn’t interested in helping this world,” he said. “He wanted to seal us off from it forever. The Institute was the only home I ever knew, but I was a prisoner there. I had to know what it was like out here. I wanted to see sunlight for the first time.”

Joanna called bullshit. “Not a whole lot of sunlight in that cave back there.”

“No. I ended up a prisoner there, too.” He peered down at Joanna through his spectacles. “Tell me, what will I be to the Brotherhood of Steel?”

“You’re not under arrest, Doctor.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s like I told you. There’s no way Elder Maxson would grant a second expedition out here just to deliver your cure. You have to meet us halfway. But we can give you what you want. Your humanity restored. And a place to continue your research among the Brotherhood scribes, in a way that actually benefits the Commonwealth.” She leaned closer to him. It was a shame her helmet rendered her an expressionless robot. “The way I see it, we’re the only ones offering you a future.”

“I saw the way your colleague looked at me,” Virgil replied. “And I heard how you speak about the Institute. I’m not sure if the Brotherhood will despise me more as a mutant or a man.”

“I won’t lie. At first you’ll be mistrusted. You’ll have to be patient. But I can promise to advocate for you to the Elder. He is a reasonable man, and he wants what is best for the Commonwealth.”

If it came to a debate, she would repeat Maxson’s words back to him if she needed to: _any means necessary_. Any cop worth their salt understood that a deal was a better motivator than a threat, and Virgil had precious insider information to share. She only hoped that Maxson would listen. His prejudice made him myopic, but he was not stupid.

Virgil studied the backs of his huge hands in the dim light. “You seem like a good person, Knight. I’m very sorry for what has been done to you and your family.”

Something in his tone chilled her veins. “What do you mean?” When he shook his head and started to turn away, she grabbed hold of his thick wrist. “Doctor, if there’s something else you’re not telling me, I beg you. _Please_. We’re talking about my child.”

He paused. “I don’t know anything. I’m sorry.” He got to his feet. “I need to sleep.”

In the old world, this would have been the point where he sat back and demanded to speak with his lawyer. She had played that game a hundred times before, but never when the stakes were so high, or so personal. Part of her felt like shoving her rifle under his chin to see if that would loosen his tongue. But instead she clenched her fists and watched him leave.

She didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next morning they reached the old freeway and covered a good few miles without incident. But further on, their luck—and the road—ran out. Randy returned to report in his synthetic monotone that the road ahead had collapsed completely, and a wide fissure in the earth would prevent them from continuing in that direction. They had to backtrack half a mile or so to find a safe place to climb down, then they marched on to assess the terrain. What they found was no less than a ravine. They stood on the precipice and stared into the depths where the glowing earth eventually faded into blackness. Danse instructed the others to stop and take a break while Randy flew first east and then west to find the nearest place for them to cross. It must have been forty minutes before the robot finally bobbed back into view with the news that they would have to trek two and a half miles west. _Back the way we came_ , Joanna thought with a sinking heart. There was nothing to be done about it. They drank some of their recycled water and set off once more, walking along the edge in silence.

Joanna was more aware of the complaints in her body now that the diversion had halted their progress. Everything from her skin down to the marrow of her bones ached. After months using power armour she had grown stronger than she had ever been before, but her body was reaching its limits. A night without sleep only made her muscles more belligerent. Her toes were blistered and sore as they rubbed inside their casing.

The deathclaw came out of nowhere.

It must have clambered over the edge of the ravine, because even Randy gave no warning before the thing was upon them. It was gigantic. By the time Joanna and Danse opened fire, Virgil had been tossed to one side like a doll and Randy had to soar upward to escape a sweep of the beast’s claws. Joanna ran, twisting to the side to keep shooting as she retreated from the ledge. It seemed to wade through the blasts like he was shooting spit balls, and in three strides it was on her. One huge hand flew out and with an impact that rattled her teeth in her skull, her body left the ground.

She had time to wonder, _Is this how it ends?_ as she flew towards the chasm. But gravity was on her side. She smacked into the ground with a crunch just inches shy of the edge. One leg dangled over thin air and she clawed her way back in desperation. Her rifle had landed a few yards away. She somehow scrambled towards it in her armour. By the time she raised the weapon, Danse had the creature down on its knees. Her shots joined his, each pulse of the laser thudding into its leathery hide, until at last it fell still.

“Are you okay?” she called to Danse between wheezing breaths. “Are you hit?”

He raised a hand. “I’m fine.”

She laughed and winced at the same time. _Fuck_. That was close. It took her a minute or two to get to her feet, being less than nimble in the T-60 suit, her movements made even clumsier by the flood of adrenaline. None of her bones appeared to be broken. Her body was no doubt readying for a new world of pain, but for the moment she couldn’t feel a thing.

Her elation died when she saw Danse crouch down over the spot where Virgil lay. She knew he was dead, but a stubborn part of her demanded proof. She staggered closer. The doctor had been eviscerated by a single swipe of claws. He had been so huge and strong that such a sudden death would not have seemed possible. She turned away. He may not have been a good man, but he hadn’t been a bad one, either.

“We need to look over your armour,” Danse said. “You took one hell of a hit back there.”

“I’m okay,” Joanna replied, scanning around for Randy. She called out for him. After  a moment he hovered up out of the ravine. One of his arms hung crookedly under him, spasming occasionally. “Shit, I think he’s damaged. Randy, get over here! We need to get you fixed up.”

“You first,” Danse insisted. “Then the robot.”

He beckoned her to move away from the ravine, but she had noticed something else that struck a far deeper fear into her heart. She froze to the spot.

“Danse, where’s the supply crate?”

*

They would die out here.

The realisation crept in slowly over the following days like a chill through her foundations until Joanna’s whole being was numbed with the cold truth of it. She was surprised how calm she still felt. Where was the denial, the anger? Perhaps she had used them up before they had even reached the Glowing Sea. Maybe she had been preparing for death since the moment the sirens had cut through a peaceful Saturday morning in Sanctuary Hills. It had just been a very, very long time coming.

She did feel afraid, in a way. It came and went in steady waves. But it was not the panicked fear that had come with the deathclaw attack. Death was not roaring in to tear her limb from limb this time; it was a fellow traveller on their path, making itself gradually known. This fear was different. It was more like regret. But she wouldn’t fight death when it came. There would be no use in it, and she had no strength left even if there were.

The supply crate had, as she feared, fallen into the chasm. It had wedged in the twisted wreckage of a bus, but not before the lid had been knocked open and much of their equipment had tumbled out. Randy had been able to salvage what was still inside and a few other items by taking trip after trip down into the dark and using his two working arms to grab whatever had not fallen forever out of reach. They still had stimpaks, the water purifier, a bottle of X-111, three spare fusion cores and a few rations of nutrition powder. Most of the ammunition was lost.

It got worse.

Joanna’s T-60 armour was still functioning, but the impact with the ground had damaged several actuators in the leg joints. The effort required to keep moving was magnified, like wading through tar, and her already exhausted body now felt shattered by the effort. Danse insisted that they swap suits. He steamrolled over her protests until she submitted. Stepping out into the full onslaught of the Sea’s radiation was too hazardous, so they made their way to the half-submerged ruins of a factory. By the time they reached it Joanna could barely have moved another inch. They took an extra dose of X-111 before pulling the release catches at their wrists.

Joanna had underestimated how much the armour had been holding her together. She could hardly stand on her own, and as she stepped backward out of her suit, she started to crumple to the ground before Danse caught her and set her down gently. The collision had done her more harm than she realised. He shot her up with a stimpak, then turned back to his armour to make some hasty adjustments so her smaller frame could fit comfortably inside. She watched, her vision fuzzing around the edges.

He got her to her feet and fixed up her feeding tubes, but before he could help her into the armour, she grabbed his hand. Their eyes locked for a long moment. She saw, then, that he knew the truth as well as she did.

“Stay with me,” she managed at last.

He squeezed her hand. “Until the very end, soldier.”

*

The worst part was knowing that she had failed Shaun. That she would never hold him again. Learn what the ten-year-old him was like, hear his voice for the first time. Give him back the mother he had lost. All she had to ease the sorrow was the promise Maxson had made. He would find Shaun, not at Joanna’s side as he had vowed to, but he would do his best. She trusted that he would do that for her. His words on the holotape had confirmed it: _‘I never make a promise I do not intend to keep.’_

She wished she could listen to his words again. The Pip-boy had survived, clasped around one of Randy’s uninjured arms, but the holotape was gone. She played what she could remember of it through her mind anyway, picturing the two men sitting in Maxson’s quarters, cigar smoke and brandy fumes heavy in the air between them as they reminisced about battles won.

Though their pace was slower than ever, they continued to move forward. Danse had partially repaired the actuators in Joanna’s T-60 suit with Randy’s help, but the damage had taken its toll, and even his stronger body was tiring fast. The meagre nutrition they had left wasn’t helping. Joanna suspected Danse wasn’t using all of his share, but he ignored her when she challenged him.

She started seeing things.

The first time was during the day. They had found another stretch of relatively intact freeway and she was trailing along behind Danse, walking close to the edge. Down below, a figure appeared and disappeared ghostlike in the greenish mist. She assumed it was a ghoul, and though it was too far down to be any threat, she flipped her infrared scanner over her eyepiece. There was no reading at all.

The next time was at night, as Danse slept close by inside the shell of a crashed plane. The air was sickly and close, the way it got before a radstorm. As the clouds began to clench like purple fists above their shelter, she saw him. He was just a shadow in the haze. But this time she felt a sense of recognition. Danse stirred, and the figure was no longer there.

*

“I’m going to send Randy on ahead,” Danse said later.

Joanna understood. Their food was gone and they were down to one spare fusion core. Even with their purifier, there wasn’t enough water around to replace what they were sweating out. Losing Randy left them more vulnerable, but it was time to admit defeat.

Danse sat down to record one last message on the Pip-boy. All they had left to send home was the information they had gleaned on the mission. Joanna couldn’t bear to listen to his final log, so she wandered away to sit on a low mound of rubble. Her eyelids were as heavy as her leaden limbs and her heart. Before she knew it she was falling asleep.

She dreamed that he was there again, standing in the fog a little way off, waiting with his hands in his pockets like he always used to. It was such a relief to see him that the last few days almost seemed worth all the pain. She felt lighter as she got to her feet and moved closer.

He smiled, and two hundred years melted away. _Hi, honey._

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I fucked up.”

He shook his head. He took his hand from the pocket of his fatigues and held it out towards her. His ring was gone. But that was all right, because she still had it. She went to stretch out her own hand, and saw that she was still in her armour.

The release catches were fiddly, and in her excitement she missed them the first time. He just waited ( _patience of a saint_ ) and kept on smiling. The suit hissed open at last, and she—

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Hands rammed into her from behind and she was wrestled back into her armour. She felt the frame snap closed around her before a steel bulk shoved its way in front of her face.

“What? No,” she protested faintly. “Stop.” She tried to move around him, but Danse clapped his hands around the plates on her arms and shook her.

“Not like this,” he said, desperation leaking through the speaker in his helmet.  

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m sleeping. It’s okay.”

She looked for her dream, but it was gone.

*

They moved until they couldn’t any more. Joanna didn’t really know why they kept on moving at all, but Danse wanted to, so she did. She would rest soon enough.

His fusion core ran out before hers. He could still move, but he had to all but drag himself. She said they should alternate using her fusion core so he didn’t tire so fast. He refused, of course. They walked on.

When her core failed, they stopped. Every few steps required them to rest for longer and longer periods before they could take a few more. They stood and watched another storm brew across the landscape. It was strangely beautiful out here, she thought, once you had accepted that it would kill you.

She thought they slept for a while, right there on their feet on a slope of ancient freeway as the storm rolled right over them.

She was walking again. Somewhere close behind she heard Danse’s footsteps. Ahead she could hear another sound, a whisper. The air was thick with smoke, or perhaps it was fog, because she couldn’t smell anything. But she couldn’t feel anything either. No pain, no weight. No heat or cold. Was she still in her body?  She tried to look back to see if her body was there, but shapes were coming at her out of the mist.

She was tumbling back into the air, like liquid pouring from a glass, but before she could hit the ground and drain away into it, something hard wrapped around her and made her solid again. She was in her body after all. She felt it being lifted into cold metal arms.

_“Joanna.”_

The voice was faint. Her head rolled back bonelessly. Around the bulk of the figure carrying her she could see two more helping Danse from his armour. Beyond them, just for a moment, she glimpsed a dream in the mist, standing and watching as she was carried away. She tried to reach a hand out toward him.

“Nate?” she said, voice rasping from her cracked throat.

“No,” a voice above her said, both rough and gentle at the same time. The huge arms lifted her higher, held her closer. “It’s me. It’s Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES THIS IS STILL A ROMANCE STORY I SWEAR. o___o I never planned for it to become all misery and angst, it's just sort of morphed into... Pride and Prejudice and Deathclaws. I hope y'all are still enjoying it. Next chapter should amp up the Max/Jo at long last. In the meantime, if you haven't already, check out my Maxson POV story 'Diagnosis' if you need a fix of the feels. 
> 
> You guys are the freaking bomb! <3


	14. Chapter 14

From one sea to another. This one was dark and deep and silent, but it was safe.

She was submerged for a long time, too deep for anything to filter through beyond a dim yet constant awareness of pain. Occasionally it focused into a sharp point in her arm before ebbing again. Sometimes another sensation broke through; warm fingers laced through hers, or voices drifting somewhere on the surface of the ocean she was sunk into.

When she finally did float to the surface, she bubbled up in a sudden rush of fear. The constant itching soreness of her skin had nagged at her through sleep and half-thoughts, her fingers finding rough patches under her clothes as she rose through the layers of consciousness. She jerked awake with a gasp and a terrible question forming on her lips.

She was in a bed in a darkened room. The bed frame creaked as she moved, and her body screamed in protest. Her back and ribs felt as though she had been thrown down a flight of stairs. She fought to sit up anyway, hands scrabbling over whatever skin she could reach. There were tubes poking out of her left arm, held in place by papery tape. The skin on her inner elbows, waist and collarbones was cracked and sore. Her face felt normal, and her belly and her breasts under the thin clothes she was wearing, but the panic had already gripped her. She felt around beside the narrow bed for her Pip-boy, but then she remembered that it had been sent away, strapped to the arm of Randy the robot. Her wrist caught something on a stand beside the bed and there was a crash as metal hit concrete.

She was swaying on her feet when a light went on behind her. Eyes slitted against the sudden glare, she turned to see a curtain, clean but tattered, hanging along the edge of her bed. The light was on the other side of it.

“Knight?”

Joanna’s breath rushed out of her in relief. “Danse? Is that you?” Her voice was so rough she barely recognised it.

“It’s me. I’m here. Are you all right?”

“I—” she said. She looked down at the tray she had knocked to the ground. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where we were.” She looked around. They were in a room she didn’t recognise. “I—still don’t.” 

“Shh, it’s all right. We’re at the airport, in the sick bay. It’s okay. We’re home.”

“And the Prydwen?” she asked dumbly.

“Still right where it was before,” he said, and the warmth in his voice steadied her. “Watching over us.”

Joanna heard a rattling noise, and a moment later Danse appeared at the end of her bed, dragging an IV stand along behind him. She was so used to seeing him in uniform that he looked strange dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, his hair mussed from sleep.

He blinked blearily at her and smiled. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“I freaked out.” As her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked over the skin on her arms. It didn’t look nearly as bad as it had felt in the dark. Just the places where her uniform had rubbed away under her armour. “I woke up convinced I was turning into a ghoul,” she confessed. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, easing slowly. She was dressed in clean grey shorts and tank top, and she tugged at the hems to check on her hips. The skin there was red and dry like her arms, but it was the sight of the bruising that made her hiss in through her teeth. The right side of her body was stained with huge, purple-black blotches from ribcage to knee. “Fuck.”

Danse hushed her again gently. “Relax. You’re going to be fine. Knight Captain Cade has given you a full scan, and you don’t have any broken bones. As for the rads, we weren’t too badly affected out there, all things considered. The suits and the medication did their job. A few more doses and we should be completely clean.”

The weariness hit her as the fear abated, and she sat back heavily on the mattress. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied. He came to sit beside her. His normally ruddy face was sallow and the grey circles under his eyes lent him a haunted look. She wondered how she must appear. “We were both dehydrated and physically exhausted,” he explained. “You were in even worse shape thanks to the hit that deathclaw gave you. You’re badly bruised, and Cade says you may experience some back and joint pain because of the swelling. But stims will help, and it should all pass soon as long as you rest.”

“How long have we been back?”

“Almost two days.”

Joanna’s eyes popped wide. “I’ve been asleep for two days?”

“You needed it,” he said softly.

She looked down at Danse’s hand where it rested on the blankets between them. She reached for it, slotting her fingers between his. “I really thought that was it,” she said.

In the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. His hand squeezed around hers. “Me too.”

They were alive. It was a total revelation. They had not merely brushed past death, but looked it square in the eye.  And Danse had stayed by her side through every moment. Joanna would certainly have lost first her mind, and then her life, if not for his solid presence. It was impossible to articulate what she felt, so for a few minutes she just sat with him, holding his hand and hoping to beam the message through her skin and into his.  

Her throat was dry, so she reached for the can of water on her night stand, careful not to tangle her IV lines in anything. She had to let go of Danse’s hand to open the can. She was weak from sickness and numbed by whatever drugs they had been pumping into her, so after a couple of failed attempts Danse took it from her and cracked the lid himself.

“Did you see anything strange while we were out there?” she asked, running a fingertip around the rim of the can. “That is—obviously the whole place was batshit crazy. But did you see anything that shouldn’t have been there?”

“Such as?”

“A person, perhaps.” She was almost whispering. “Someone who couldn’t possibly be there.”

“It’s normal to hallucinate when you’re sleep deprived,” he said. “Bring in hunger and thirst, and you could have seen anything.”

“I know. But it wasn’t just anything.” She looked into his dark, troubled eyes. “Anyway, that’s not what I asked. Did you?”

After a long pause he nodded, almost imperceptibly. Joanna wondered who. Had they beckoned to him the way Nate had? She didn’t ask. That was between him and his own ghosts.

They sat in silence while she finished her water. “I don’t even remember how we got out,” she said.

“It was Elder Maxson,” Danse replied. “He had a Vertibird patrolling the edge of the Glowing Sea for a few days before we were found. They intercepted Randy as soon as he was free of the danger zone, and took him straight to the Prydwen. Maxson listened to our recording and launched a search party immediately.”

She remembered then, the arms that had caught her as she fell. His voice. That had been real. It made her chest feel tight. “Why did he come for us himself? Why not send a unit to pick us up?”

“Perhaps you can ask him that yourself.” Danse paused until she looked up at him. “He didn’t let go of you, you know. In the Vertibird. He held you all the way home. And from what I heard, Cade had to all but drag him out of the treatment room when we got back. I’ve never seen him like that. And I’ve known Arthur Maxson for a long time.”

Joanna avoided his eye. What was the use in telling her that? At least she was too sickly to blush. She pictured Maxson climbing into his rarely-worn power armour and heading the charge to come to their rescue. Her stomach flipped, but that was probably because it was so empty. “Well, he should be more careful,” she mumbled. “People will start to talk.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him next time he visits.” He patted her hand. “Now, let’s get you back into bed before I get yelled at for hindering your recovery.”

*

It was another three days before Joanna was allowed up to the airship. In the meantime she slept for hours and hours, though her waking periods grew steadily longer. The better she got, the more frustrated she became. Knight Captain Cade forbid her from going any further than the toilet at the end of the corridor, even once her IV drips were removed, so there was nothing to do but count ceiling tiles and worry about things she couldn’t change. Places she couldn’t be. She was always grumpy when she was sick, and had never been bed-ridden for this long in her life, so she was driving Cade and the medical scribes who assisted him up the wall with her questions and complaints.

Danse had been discharged from sick bay the day after she first awoke, though he had yet to return to active duty. The colour was back in his cheeks when he stopped in to visit her with a smuggled pack of Dandy Boy apples. She sat in bed and sucked sugar from her fingers as he talked. He’d been on the radio to the Castle, he told her, to pass word of Joanna’s safety to the Minutemen. He had only received a brief update in return but was assured that all was well at the headquarters and in Sanctuary. It was a relief, but only worsened Joanna's itch to be up and doing something useful.

Maxson visited her too, though usually early in the morning when she was asleep. On one occasion she half-awoke at the sound of voices and cracked her eyelids to see a familiar broad-shouldered figure silhouetted in the doorway. Her senses were too dulled by sleep and Med-X to hear what he was saying to Cade. He turned to look at her, his expression warming as their eyes met, and then hers slid closed and she was dead to the world once more.

The next time she awoke her Pip-boy was on the night stand. She booted it up, more grateful than she had expected for its familiar green glow. There was a tape in the deck. _Zeta Invaders_ , the label read, under a picture of flying saucers soaring through a night sky. A smile spread across her face. Less than ten minutes later, her loud curses drew a worried-looking scribe to her bedside.

“I died,” Joanna explained guiltily, holding up the Pip-boy with its _GAME OVER_ message flashing across the screen. The scribe rolled her eyes and left her to it.

When the leaderboard scrolled up, every score was accompanied by the letters _MAX_. Joanna laughed in surprise. She pictured Maxson sitting in his quarters with the Pip-boy clutched in his big hands, frowning as he ruthlessly obliterated tiny digital spaceships. How the hell had he beaten all her scores in just a few days? Didn’t he have an army to run?

She narrowed her eyes. “So _that’s_ how it is, huh?” she muttered, and started a new game.

*

Joanna perched on a plastic stool under the hot spray and moaned aloud. God, it felt good. The Prydwen as a whole was a magnificent feat of engineering, but the showers were her favourite part. Situated in the belly of the ship, they were fed by pipes that ran past the engines far above, meaning there was no shortage of hot water and the pressure was usually good. She clutched the bar of soap in her hands like a totem and started to work up a thick lather.

Her bruises had changed colour as the days passed, and her right leg and hip were now a vivid patchwork of violet, yellow and green. It reminded her of the sky above the Glowing Sea. The place had painted itself upon her, outside and in. Joanna was alarmed by how much hair came loose in her hands as the water sluiced through it, and the words _radiation sickness_ flashed up again in her mind in glaring neon until she remembered that her hair had been tied back for over two weeks and hadn’t know the touch of a brush in all that time. Cade had assured her that the results of her latest blood screen were almost normal.

There were still a thousand places on her body that stung or throbbed under the onslaught of soap and water, and she was stiff and pitifully weak, but the pleasure of feeling clean outweighed even the deepest ache. Still, she was just about exhausted by the time she had washed her arms and legs. Her attendant, Scribe Murphy, yanked back the curtain and started on her back and shoulders. Joanna argued she didn’t need help, but the scribe shushed her. “You’re as feeble as a kitten,” she stated calmly. “And besides, I’ve been giving you bed baths for days. It’s a little late for either pride or modesty.”

Fair point. Joanna sagged forward on the stool while Murphy scrubbed at her tender back. Together the two of them got through half a bar of soap before the scribe finally shut the water off and went to fetch some towels. It was nice to be mothered. Murphy was freckled woman of fifty-ish years who spoke softly but took no shit whatsoever from her patients. The Brotherhood’s scribes were, in Joanna’s experience, just as strong-willed as its soldiers. Joanna sat with her head hanging down while Murphy towelled her hair with the same vigour that her mom had when she was a kid. She even combed it for her afterward. Then she pushed a toothbrush and withered tube of toothpaste into Joanna’s hands and pointed her towards the wash basins.

By the time Joanna sat down in the mess hall she was shaking with exertion, but otherwise felt incredible. Her mouth watered uncontrollably as the server prepared her brahmin steak. Twelve days of a liquid diet in the Glowing Sea, followed by intravenous nutrition after her return, had left her stomach an empty cavern and her teeth feeling sharp like fangs from lack of use. Her only meals had been some rather dismal lukewarm pickings brought from the airport’s kitchen.

Her meal barely lasted five minutes. Murphy had to pointedly remind her to chew. Joanna washed down the meat and vegetables with a glass of water before looking at her empty plate so sadly that Murphy took pity and ordered her a second slab of steak. Joanna liked Scribe Murphy. She liked her very much.

She was halfway through a dish of something claiming to be mutfruit pie when Maxson walked in. She was relieved to notice that hers were not the only eyes magnetised to him as he appeared; he simply had that effect. Especially when he had neglected to put on his coat over that godforsaken tight black uniform. Joanna’s mouth went dry, though she blamed the rubbery consistency of the pie for that.

He noticed her a few seconds after she saw him, and their eyes locked for a brief moment across the busy room. It took him a few minutes to get to her past all the others demanding his attention. That must explain why he so rarely chose to eat in the mess hall. He couldn’t get five minutes’ peace.

Joanna ate the last of the pie and pushed her empty dish away. She sat back with a happy sigh. “I feel just about human again.”

“It’s nice to see you enjoying life’s little pleasures,” Murphy replied with a lilt of humour in her voice.

Joanna snatched her gaze back from Maxson, who was talking with a pair of knights at the next table, and looked at Murphy. “What are you getting at?”

The scribe raised her hands in an innocent gesture, but Joanna wasn’t buying it. Before she could respond, Maxson appeared beside their table.

“Knight Mayes,” he said. “Scribe Murphy.”

“Elder,” Murphy said warmly. “Please do excuse me, I just remembered I have a matter to discuss with Proctor Quinlan.” There was definitely a sparkle of mischief in the scribe’s eye before she got up from the table and made herself scarce. Joanna would give her hell later.

“You’re looking better,” Maxson said, and settled into the seat opposite hers.

Joanna hadn’t seen her reflection since before the mission, so catching sight of herself in the mirror after her shower had been a shock. Her face was gaunt and pale, eyes deep-set and dull. She was dressed in a faded t-shirt and oversized fatigues; shapeless clothes that wouldn’t chafe her sore skin. All things considered, she wondered how dreadful she must have looked before if this was an improvement.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been to hell and back.” She attempted a smile. “And did a few rounds with a demon while I was there.”

Maxson frowned. “Danse told me about the deathclaw.”

Joanna wasn’t really in the mood for his concern. She was too relieved to be alive, clean and fed. “Worried I’ll steal your thunder, sir?” she said, and her smile came easier this time.  

His expression lightened and he laughed softly. The sound gripped Joanna deep in her chest. It took her back to the first night she had listened to his holotape, sitting under an angry sky with the Pip-boy clasped in her armoured hands, clinging to the sound of voices from far away. Maxson had laughed on the tape, too. Just for a moment. But she had listened to that moment many times.

“I regret that you had to go through all that,” he said.

“I’m all right now,” she said with forced brightness. “I’m almost rad-free, and after all the steak I just ate, there’ll be no stopping me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

They watched each other awkwardly for a moment. “I suppose you’ve heard from Paladin Danse about what happened to Doctor Virgil,” she said.

Maxson sat forward and leaned both elbows on the table. “I believe you convinced him to return with you.”

“Yes, sir. I thought he would be an invaluable source of information. He would have traded it, in return for being brought to safety.”

“You weren’t concerned that he would betray us to the Institute?”

“Absolutely not,” she replied. “Virgil turned himself into a monster and fled to the worst imaginable place on the planet. A man doesn’t go to those kind of lengths unless he desperately wants out.” She shook her head. “I’m only sorry that he was killed before we could get him back here. I should have been more careful. Or at least asked him more—”

“Knight,” Maxson said firmly. “You did an exemplary job. Recruiting Virgil was a bold move, but a smart one. You have a clear talent for diplomacy. As for his death, Danse’s report was very thorough. Neither of you could have defended him from the attack.”  

“But I’m afraid the Courser chip will be useless without him. Even if you _do_ manage to retrieve one.”

“We will find a way,” he insisted. “I have a team of brilliant technicians and engineers, as well as the strongest army in the Eastern territories. One way or another, we are getting into the Institute.”

Joanna rubbed a hand over her eyes. She wanted to believe him. “Do you have a plan? For hunting a Courser?”

“I didn’t get where I am today without having a plan.”

“So I’ve heard,” she replied. “A master tactician with a strategy for everything.”

“Almost everything.” She saw the way his eyes dipped momentarily to her mouth before he looked away. “I already have a unit assigned to the task. Proctor Ingram has equipped them with the best weapons and armour we have.”

“I should really thank her,” Joanna said. “My power armour did an incredible job out there. I feel bad that it took such a beating.”

“Armour can be replaced.” The frown lines formed between his eyebrows again. “You can’t.”

Her skin warmed under his gaze. She thought of what Danse had told her. An image of Maxson  carrying her limp body to the Vertibird flashed unbidden into her mind. He hadn’t let her go. Not once.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, focusing on her own pale hands on the tabletop. “For—Well, for not giving up on us. You saved our lives.”

He shook his head. “It was my orders that sent you into that place, and it was my responsibility to bring you out again.”

It was a tidy response, but it didn’t answer the question she really wanted to ask. It balanced there on the tip of her tongue. “I—thought you couldn’t fly into the Glowing Sea?” she enquired instead.

“The weather was relatively stable, so we took a chance and headed in. You were less than two miles from the edge.”

“That was risky,” she said. She met his eye. To hell with it. “Especially for the Elder himself to venture out on such a dangerous mission.”

His eyes swept over her face again, and she dimly realised that she must have done the same to him countless times. How else could she know in such detail the shape of his lips or the curve of his scar.

“I’d do it again,” he said.

Joanna cleared her throat, uncomfortably aware of all the people around them. She quickly sought a way to change the subject. “Thank you for returning my Pip-boy,” she said. “I think it saved my sanity the last couple of days.”

Maxson nodded and a smile played at his lips. “I’m glad to hear it. Speaking of your health, I should let you get back to sick bay. You still need plenty of rest. I’ll call a Vertibird to take you back.”  

“Thank you, sir.”

Maxson got to his feet, but lingered a moment. “Out of interest,” he said, “How long did it take you to beat my top scores?”

“About a day,” she replied with a smug shrug of her shoulders. “How did you know I had a competitive streak?”

He simply raised an eyebrow at her. “I have met you,” he said. “Anyway, don’t be too pleased with yourself. I have much higher scores on my terminal.” Looking thoroughly self-satisfied, he bid her goodbye.

As he walked away, Joanna was simultaneously struck by three observations, all of which were cause for serious concern.

One, Arthur Maxson cared about her in a more genuine way than she had realised.

Two, she _liked_ the fact that he cared about her.

And three, he had the best ass she had ever seen in her life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apologise if I led any of you to expect certain things in this chapter that didn't occur... The reason is that the chapter I planned ended up being insanely long so I actually had to chop it in half. And this is just the first part. Clearly I am a very poor judge of how long things will be once I write them down (like, this entire story, hahahaaaa kill me now). The plus side is that a chunk of the next chapter is already written so there won't be such a long wait. :) 
> 
> Thank you all again for your patience and wonderful, thoughtful words. The response to this story has really been overwhelming. I am going to make much more of an effort to reply to your comments from now on because they make everything good and wonderful. <3
> 
> EDIT: It occurred to me that those of you not on tumblr may not have seen any images of Elder Fineass wearing just his [black uniform](http://maxsonbooty.tumblr.com/post/138822723449/x) or in his [power armour](http://maxsonbooty.tumblr.com/post/138874465949/x). Images courtesy of the wonderful [@maxsonbooty](http://maxsonbooty.tumblr.com/) whose blog is a sinful delight (she does fanart too and it's just... nnnnggh)


	15. Chapter 15

Chaos in the corridors woke her. Heart in mouth, Joanna sat up in bed, ignoring the pain in her side as she strained to make sense of the racket outside. Voices, armoured footsteps, the squeal of wheels on old tile. Someone yelling in either rage or agony.

She got out of bed and shuffled to the door to peer out. A knot of people stood by the entrance to the lab-cum-treatment room next door. It was the closest the Brotherhood had to an operating theatre. A paladin stood in power armour, helmet dangling from one hand. He shook his head in dismay. A scribe spoke to him in low tones as he stared into the room at whoever was still groaning in pain.

“Thing just tossed her off the edge,” the paladin said. “In full armour. Like a fucking _doll_.”

Joanna returned to her bed, but sleep was impossible for the rest of the night. Not long after the initial disturbance, another patient was brought into her room and laid up in what had been Danse’s bed. Joanna listened as a scribe shot him up with Med-X and talked softly as he stitched the young man’s wounds. She couldn’t help but overhear snatches of the mumbled conversation on the other side of the curtain. The words she heard were enough to sketch a vague impression of what had happened. _Courser. Ambush. Knight Adams._ Joanna’s breath caught when she heard the name. She wondered if it was the same Knight Adams whose team had come to her rescue during the attack on Sanctuary.

It was pointless trying to sleep, and she felt like a voyeur lying there listening in as the soldier suffered through his treatment, so after a while she pulled on her clothes and went outside. The scribes on night duty were far too busy to question her.

The corridor was empty now. She glanced into the treatment room where Knight Captain Cade and two scribes were still clustered around the prone form of Knight Adams. Bloody instruments littered the trolley by Cade’s side.

Joanna headed through the deserted building and slowly hauled herself up the stairs to the helipad. The sky was growing lighter to the east. One of the old retractable walkways had been left extended when the bombs fell, and she walked through the rusted tunnel now. The plane it had once connected to lay beneath her in the early morning mist like a cracked shell that had hatched some mythical monster. She sat in the opening of the walkway and looked out past the husks of wrecked aircraft to the ocean, gradually turning pink and orange as the sun inched over the horizon out past Fort Strong. The Prydwen hung up above, steel belly gleaming with the colours of the sunrise. It really was magnificent. She recalled the first time she had seen the ship, how it had taken her breath away in awe as well as fear as it soared overhead. She had gone aboard a few days later. Danse had leaned in close to her in the Vertibird and said, _This is the moment when everything changes. I hope you’re ready._ She smiled ruefully. She had not been ready. For the military. For Maxson. For war.

She pulled her borrowed flight jacket around her and wondered if this would ever get easier. Watching people get hurt. The world she had awoken into was unforgiving. So few people left, and yet so much pain doled out between them. Her heart sank deep at the thought of more to come.

After a little while she glanced up and saw that a Vertibird had detached from the airship’s flight deck and was descending to the airport. She got to her feet, as stiff and frail as her grandmother had been after a hip operation, and wandered back toward the helipad. She got there just in time to see Maxson striding towards the steps to the lower level, flanked by two officers. Danse was to his left; Joanna recognised the other as the paladin she had seen in the corridor earlier.  

The cold had seeped into her bones so she decided it was time she headed inside too. As she passed the treatment room she heard the Elder’s voice from within. She peered through the open door and saw him sitting beside the gurney where Senior Knight Adams lay. Joanna had met the woman before, but she was barely recognisable now. Her left arm was bandaged from the shoulder down and ended in a stump an inch above the elbow. IV lines fed her other arm. Her face was ghastly white and streaked with tears.

“I failed them, sir,” she was saying. “And I failed you. They’re gone. I’m so sorry.”

“You fought a formidable enemy with courage, sister,” Maxson replied. “That will never be forgotten.”

“I’m useless to you now,” Adams sobbed, and her face contorted in misery.

Joanna couldn’t bear to eavesdrop on the woman’s despair, so she continued to the sick bay. Danse and the other officer were inside speaking with the young soldier in the bed next to Joanna’s. She loitered outside by the open loading bay until they were done. The shuttered opening led out into a yard that had once been the forecourt of the terminal building. She closed her eyes and tried to picture how it had looked before, in the days when she had driven down to meet her parents when they flew in to visit. She imagined her dad dragging their oversized suitcase along behind him and tipping Joanna a little salute while her mom rushed out to hug her first and coo over Shaun. Nate had dropped them off here the morning the bombs fell. They would have been in the air when the blast hit. A quick death, at least.

The past vanished when she opened her eyes. This was a military base now. She looked up at the huge gantry being constructed in the yard. It reminded her of the kind of rig a rocket might launch from. She prayed it served a more benign purpose than unleashing missiles upon the ravaged Commonwealth.

A few minutes later she heard footsteps, and turned to see Danse carefully closing the door to the sick bay. He was looking a lot better now, though his eyes were still shadowed.

“I’d say good morning, but it’s not, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Danse sighed.

“What happened?”

“On the plus side, our intel was sound,” he said. “The team successfully tracked a Courser to a hospital near CIT last night using their radios. Unfortunately it lured them onto a rooftop where they were attacked by a small army of older generation synths. Evidently the Coursers are able to summon them.” He grimaced.

“Was someone killed?”

He looked up at the sky and nodded grimly. “Two killed, and a third taken. The Courser took one of Adams’ team. Knight Goody. Teleported him back to the Institute.”

“Goody?! The Knight I met in Sanctuary?” The guy had been a punk, but he didn’t deserve whatever the Institute had planned for him. “I thought he was in the brig.”

“He was. He rejoined this unit to prove himself again.”  

“Poor bastard.” Joanna shook her head. In a quieter voice she asked, “What do you think they’ll do to him?”

“I couldn’t say. To our knowledge, none of our soldiers has been taken before. There are tales people tell around the Commonwealth of family members being replaced by synth spies. But they’re more like ghost stories than hard evidence. The truth is, we don’t know what happens when someone is taken.”

The words hit Joanna hard. “I should have tried to find out more from Virgil.”

Danse turned to face her. “Stop that,” he said. “Every soldier understands the risks of engaging the enemy. Their lives aren’t your responsibility.”

Perhaps they weren’t. But Shaun was. And while she may not think of the Brotherhood as family, she bitterly wished she could have kept Adams and her men from harm. “We’re all responsible for each other, aren’t we? You’re always telling me so. That’s what makes it a brotherhood.”

“There wouldn’t even be a mission without you,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

“Without _us_ ,” she corrected. “So what happens next?”

“We start again. Take what we know, formulate a new strategy, come at it from a different angle.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she blurted out.

He scanned her face for a moment. “I haven’t been cleared for duty yet. But the moment I am, I’ll be going back out there. It’s what we do, Knight. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Joanna nodded. It was true, of course. But she pictured him lying on a gurney with one arm gone, and it felt like a kick in the gut. “Just be careful,” she said. “Whatever happens.”

“Always,” he said, and smiled. “Anyway, a desk job would finish me off faster than any Courser ever could.”

The other paladin joined him, and Maxson emerged a minute later. He appeared to have dressed in a hurry in faded fatigues and a white t-shirt under his coat. She wondered how long he’d been up. He looked more weary than any twenty-year-old ever should.

Before they bid her farewell and returned to the ship, Maxson turned to look at her. “We won’t give up,” he said. “I promise you that.”

“I know you won’t.”

*

Joanna felt a little stronger after sleeping all day, though being out in the cold that morning had left her stiff and aching. Cade gave her a small dose of Med-X and allowed her up to the Prydwen without escort.

She ate dinner with Danse and Proctor Ingram. Morale on the ship was low after the Institute’s bloody victory, and the mood was no better at their table. Ingram stabbed at the food on her plate and spoke in monosyllables. Joanna’s attempts to distract her mostly backfired.

Elder Maxson was alone when Joanna stopped by his quarters after dinner. He was still working after a hectic day of meetings, and looked up at her from a mess of maps and papers spread out in a pool of lamp light across his table when she entered the room. His eyes were red and tired. She apologised for disturbing him, but he beckoned her in and asked her to sit.

Maxson took a seat across from her. He was still in the clothes he’d been wearing that morning. Joanna had to order herself not to stare at the swell of his biceps where they stretched the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“What can I do for you, Knight?”

“I wanted to ask your permission to return to the Castle for a few days until I’m back to full health,” she said. 

Maxson regarded her for a moment, then shook his head. “You should recover here, under the care of our medics.” 

“With respect, sir, I already spoke to Knight Captain Cade. He said I’m well enough to recover at home if you'll allow it.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

It must be the stress of the day causing him to dig in his heels. Joanna swallowed her automatic response and formulated something more rational. “All I need is to sleep, eat and get my strength back. I can do all of that easier at the Castle. It serves no purpose to keep me here.”

His brows knotted into their usual frown. “It serves to keep you _safe_. Have you already forgotten that you almost died a few days ago?”

“I haven’t forgotten a minute of it,” she replied. “When I told you I went to hell and back, I wasn’t exaggerating. I need time to get over it. And that’s not going to happen while I’m lying in bed at night listening to people having their limbs amputated.” Her voice was beginning to show the strain, so she paused to steady her breathing. “They’re the ones who need your resources, not me.”

Maxson looked down at his fingers, flexing them slowly against the table top. “I can arrange for you to use some private quarters aboard the Prydwen,” he said after a minute.

“I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

“Are you going to question me all night, or was there something else you wanted?”

“Actually, yes,” she said. “You still have my letter.”

Maxson stood stiffly and went to his desk. He took an envelope from the top drawer and handed it to her. She turned it over in her hands, feeling the hard square of the holotape inside. The envelope was still sealed. The edges were crumpled, and she wondered how long he had kept it in his pocket.

“Thank you,” she said flatly. She tucked the letter carefully into the pocket of her flight jacket.

He returned to his seat. “Was there anything else?” he said curtly.

Joanna shook her head, exasperated. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“You think _I’m_ the one being stubborn?” He glared at her across the table. “I said no, Knight. My decision is final.”

She stared right back. “Why?”

He slammed the flat of his hand on the table, and she jumped. “Because every time you leave this ship you almost get yourself killed.”

Joanna’s pulse pounded in her temples. “I’m a _soldier_. You can’t keep me out of danger,” she said. “And even if you could, it’s not your call to make. I do not belong to you.”

“You will watch the tone you take with me, Knight,” he said. “You _are_ a soldier, and I am your commander.”

She was getting to the final threads of her patience with him. “So start acting like one instead of a surly teenager.” She shoved her chair back and got to her feet.

“Sit down, Knight.”

“I’m done here.”

Maxson got to his feet. He was furious. He jabbed a finger at her chair. “ _Sit down_ ,” he barked, and the fierceness in his voice made her stop short. They had argued before, but he had never raised his voice. “That is an order.”

She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. The words danced on the very tip of her tongue, but she held them back. She clamped her teeth together and lowered herself back into her seat.

“I have listened to as much as I am willing to take of your insubordination,” he said. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was broad, and he could loom over someone pretty fearsomely when he wanted to. “You swore an oath to the Brotherhood. You do not get to pick and choose which orders to obey and which to ignore. I have been lenient with you this far. Probably too lenient. And I have tolerated your allegiance to the Minutemen because it served the vision for the Commonwealth we both share. But I will not tolerate being spoken to like this.”

She met his stare. She realised they were in the same positions they had been in the night he proposed; she seated at the table while he stood, and air that you could cut with a knife. She realised he was probably about to give her an ultimatum: Minutemen or Brotherhood. She didn’t know if she could make that choice. She couldn’t abandon Preston and the settlements. They were her people now. But so was Danse. And without the Brotherhood, her hopes of getting to Shaun faded by the day.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she said at last.

They faced off a minute longer. The air still rang with tension. Eventually Maxson pulled back his chair and sat down.

“You’re right, you have been lenient with me,” Joanna said. “But I haven’t taken liberties. I’m only trying to do what’s best for the people around me.” Her hands fidgeted in her lap. “I haven’t always spoken to you with respect. I apologise. I know today must have been very hard for you.”

“Why do you insist on fighting me?” He sounded tired and angry.

“Because I always feel backed into a corner. This atmosphere between us, it’s too much. People are starting to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“That you don’t treat me the same as everyone else.” She spoke carefully. Talking to Maxson could be like stepping between landmines. “That you’re... invested in me in a different way. You don’t ride out to the rescue of every knight who gets into trouble.”

“Would you rather I’d left you out there to die?”

“Of course not. But if we can’t be professional around one another, then we need to keep our distance. Otherwise rumours start to spread, and that’ll only hurt us both.”

“I am doing everything in my power to remain professional,” he said. His voice was gruff and raw. The empty bottle of vodka on the table had not escaped Joanna’s notice. “But if you’re asking me to stop caring about you, then that is not a promise I am able to make. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Her heart pounded like a drum. “I gave you my answer. You told me you’d respect it.”

“I have respected it,” he insisted. “That doesn’t make it just go away.” He leaned on the table, jabbing at its surface with one thick forefinger. “Do you think I want to feel like this? That I have anything to gain from being driven to distraction by someone who shows such disrespect for me, and for the code I live by? If I could dismiss these feelings and move on, I would, in a heartbeat. Do you imagine I relished the thought of explaining to the Western Elders that the only woman I’ve ever wanted as my wife is a wastelander who challenges my authority at every turn?”

Joanna stared back in indignation. “Then it’s fortunate we can both be spared the humiliation of you marrying so far beneath your station.”

She got up and went to the door. Maxson moved faster. By the time her hand was on the handle, he had already caught up. He slammed the door closed with the flat of one huge hand.

She stared at his muscled forearm planted against the door, willing it to burst into flame. “Let me go,” she said. Her hands fisted at her sides. “Just stop this. Let me go so we can get on with the job we’re here to do and then move on with our lives.”

“And if I can’t?”

“You don’t have a choice. Trust me, you’ll be much better off when you can fly off into the sunset and marry your pretty scribe and forget I ever existed.”

There was a beat of silence. Joanna screwed her eyes up tight, mortified that she'd let that slip.

“What scribe?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t. If you’re going to fabricate stories about me then I should know who they involve.”

She yanked on the door, but it was a worthless effort. Even in power armour she doubted her strength would be a match for Maxson in a rage. “The girl who was with you in here,” she gritted out. “The night before I left for the Glowing Sea.”

He scowled for a moment as he sought out the memory. “Scribe Brandis?” he asked, incredulous. “She was here to report on her father’s recovery. Paladin Brandis, the man _you_ helped to rescue. There is nothing whatsoever between me and his daughter.”

“I don’t care if there is or not.”

“You certainly seem to care.” He put his hand on her shoulder and tried to turn her toward him. She shook him off and backed away. She couldn’t let him touch her.

“I don’t understand you at all,” he went on. “One minute you can hardly bring yourself to look at me, and the next you’re upset that I might have someone else.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to earn your disdain,” he said. “I have taken you into this organisation, entrusted key missions to you, provided for the people you care about, _saved your life_. At least explain what makes me so repugnant to you.” Joanna could feel his eyes like lasers on her back. “Or are you not quite so willing to bestow your brutal honesty when it regards your feelings for me?”

“You want brutal honesty?” she said, turning to face him. “Fine. I just want you to leave me alone. I never asked for any of this. I never wanted your attentions or your affections. All I want is to get off this fucking lead balloon, find my son, and forget I ever met you.”

Maxson looked as though he’d been punched. He took a step back and turned away. He ran both hands through his hair, tightening his knuckles against his scalp. Joanna ignored the pang she felt. She took advantage of the moment and made her escape.

She hurried from his quarters and down to the flight deck, moving faster than she should amid protests from every bone and muscle in her right side. Out on deck a stiff breeze was blowing. Clouds were gathering over the sea, blocking the stars from view. She hurried down the steps and looked left and right, but both Vertibird docks were vacant. She hastened over to the one on the right in the hopes that the airport shuttle would be returning soon. She cursed her decision the moment she heard the door bang open and boots hit the stairs behind her. There was no escaping Arthur Maxson, other than to dive into the ocean.

She turned to meet her fate. He stalked toward her, formidable in his battlecoat. His holotags gave off a faint blue glow where they nestled against his chest. It was too dark to see the blue of his eyes, but she felt their heat regardless. This man was going to be the death of her. The way he made her heart pound like it was about to burst. Half the time it was through aggravation, and the other half... The way he looked at her made things shift inside her. It sent heat through her frozen centre, threatening to break apart the solid weight that held her steady. If left unchecked he would make her fracture and split, like the polar ice caps she had watched in dreadful fascination on the news two hundred years ago. They’d known for a long time that the world would end in fire. Maybe she would, too. If she gave into him, she didn’t know what would be left of her. Maybe nothing at all.

He stared her down for a few seconds. “You like to lash out with words,” he said. His voice was tainted with bitterness. “I’ve come to understand that much about you. You know exactly how to hurt me. Just tell me why you want to.”

“Because I hate the way you make me feel.”

“How do I make you feel?”

Joanna turned away in a last ditch attempt to hide. She gripped the railing at the end of the walkway, hoping the solid metal would somehow hold her together. Her wedding ring grew cool around her finger.

Maxson stepped closer. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel his body heat against her back. “Joanna,” he said. “How do I make you feel?” It was no longer a demand but a plea.

Her voice cracked. “Like an adulteress.”

A hand came up to tentatively caress her hair, smoothing it away from her shoulder. She shivered. He twisted the length of her hair in his hand, very gently, and lifted it away from her skin. The breeze tickled her bare neck for a moment.

The first soft touch of his lips against the top of her spine knocked the breath out of her. Every kiss that followed shattered her a little more. Her knees sagged as his beard grazed her skin. She had to cling tighter to the railing to keep from being scattered by the wind.

He turned her and she surrendered, let go of the rails and reached for him instead. She curled her fingers tightly into the lapels of his coat as he kissed her. He was tender and uncertain at first, but even the softest kisses pressed to her lips threatened to overload her. It had been so long that she was almost embarrassed by the effect he had on her, but her shame was soon lost in the fire. Heat flared in her cheeks and under her clothes. She tugged on his coat and pushed back hungrily into the kiss. When she moaned against his mouth, Maxson shuddered and broke off. He touched his forehead to hers, breathing raggedly for a moment as he reached to cradle her face in his hands. His pupils were huge in the dim light, ready to swallow her up. He kissed her again, deeper now. They both felt sparks as his tongue met hers.

He took both her wrists and lifted them, placing her hands against his face. His eyes slid closed as she ran her fingers over his jaw, learning the texture of his beard and the scars he bore. She realised belatedly that he had been just as starved of this as she had. Perhaps more so. Yes, certainly more, because he had never had a wife to hold him the way Nate had held her. Her memories of her husband were made cruel by grief, but at least she had them. Arthur deserved to make memories with someone who loved him. Her heart twisted.

“I can’t give you the things you want,” she whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” His thumb brushed her lower lip. “But I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

She pulled him closer and kissed him again.

The sound of the Vertibird tore them reluctantly from each other’s arms. He waited until the last possible moment before releasing her and stepping back. They watched one another in silence as the Vertibird docked. Joanna hugged her jacket around her, already missing his warmth.

“Until tomorrow, Knight,” he said once she had climbed aboard.

Joanna nodded. “Until tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will now go and lie in a darkened room to recover from the stress of getting these two life-ruining assholes to finally make out. -___-;
> 
> I love you all! <3


	16. Chapter 16

A rain had blown in and out during the night. The wet deck squeaked under the boots of the pilot to Joanna’s right as he shifted his weight from heel to toe. As the sun attempted to break through the morning cloud, the Elder addressed the troops.

“Brothers and sisters,” Maxson announced. “I have gathered you today to restate an important message.”

Joanna straightened her spine and stared directly ahead. Opposite her and in a long line to her left and right, soldiers and scribes stood to attention along the Prydwen’s flight deck. She clasped her hands behind her back and did her best to ignore the aches from a night spent tossing and turning in the sick bay.

“Since our arrival in the Commonwealth, our path has been fraught with one challenge after another. This week has cut us deeply with the loss of three fine soldiers to Institute forces. Knight-Sergeant Latham. Knight MacIntyre. Knight Goody. May their souls return to the Creator.”

Maxson paused, and the crew around Joanna repeated his last few words in sombre tones.

“Mourn those who have fallen. Honour their sacrifice. But remember this: That every loss we suffer, every drop of our blood that is spilled, brings us closer to victory. When we falter, we learn. As it is written in the Codex: _Ours is the Sight; Ours is the Might_. We take what our enemy has revealed of itself and arm ourselves anew. We rise again, and we fight.”

His voice echoed from speakers up and down the deck and rang out into the sky. The man himself was indoors addressing his most senior staff and officers in the command centre while the remainder of the force listened on deck and down below at the airport. She may not have him in sight, but Joanna could picture Maxson as though he were standing right before her. His disciplined stride, shoulders set in stoic defiance of the burden upon them. His focused frown as he spoke.

The wind stirred the hair at the back of her neck. It reminded her of a very different touch the night before.

“It is natural to doubt and to fear. Our fears are the shadows cast by our hopes. But we must not heed those doubts. Our doubts told us that the Prydwen would never fly. That the Citadel could not be rebuilt. Our doubts told us that the Commonwealth was beyond saving. They told us that no one could cross the Glowing Sea. That we would find no allies in this land. Right now, your doubts may be telling you that we cannot defeat the Institute. And I am telling you that we will.”

There had been a charge in the air even as the crowd gathered in anticipation of the Elder’s address, but it gradually built to an almost tangible crackle of energy as he spoke. Joanna felt it in her own blood. And not only because of her electrifying encounter with Maxson.

“Every one of you has an essential role to play in the coming days. Every woman and man together will win this war. The Institute and its soulless machines have no defence that cannot be broken by the instruments of the Brotherhood. Sword, Wings, Shield and Quill. Strength in Steel. Ad victoriam, my brothers and sisters.”

A sound rippled along the deck as dozens of hands raised in salute, and the words rang from every mouth.

“Ad victoriam,” Joanna called along with them, right fist clutched to her heart.

*

It was hours before she finally set eyes on Maxson again.

Following his address, the Elder had lined up meeting after meeting with key staff to assign new orders, and the Prydwen buzzed with activity as members of each order passed on instructions and hurried about their duties. The sombre atmosphere of the day before had lifted. Joanna couldn’t help but be impressed. It had been tempting at first to underestimate Arthur Maxson because of his youth and fire, but he was far more than a chest-thumping figurehead with a venerable name. His passion was tempered by cool pragmatism, and he clearly knew how to inspire his staff and crew.

Since she was still in the dreary limbo of recovery, she had nowhere to rush to, so she had parked herself in the mess hall and watched the comings and goings while she drank what passed for tea in the twenty-third century and played _Zeta Invaders_. Danse joined her for a quick lunch before vanishing off again to assist Proctor Ingram with a power armour training exercise. Joanna tried not to sulk, but she felt like a spare part. She hated it. If it hadn’t been for that goddamned deathclaw she could be at the centre of the action instead of parked on the bench feeling useless. She wished she could kill it all over again.

Finally Maxson summoned her.

In truth it was more than being sidelined that was making her tense. She was a hormonal mess after the night before. Her heart quickened as she made her way to his quarters.

Maxson was seated at his desk, fingers rattling off the keys of his terminal. He didn’t look up when she entered. She closed the door quietly behind her and waited for him to finish what he was doing.

He turned in his chair to face her at last. He looked tired, though a lot less tense than he had yesterday. Joanna’s nerve endings tingled as his eyes skimmed over her uniform. She was able to wear one again now that her skin had had a few days to heal.  

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if it came out sounding playful or anxious.

He got to his feet. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m well,” she said, trying not to stare too hard at his black-clad body as he moved closer. “Tired.”

He stopped a couple of paces from her, hands behind his back. “How did you sleep last night?”  

Joanna had run through many versions of this scenario in her mind since the Vertibird had swept her from his arms. In some versions she’d explained to him calmly yet firmly that the kiss had been a mistake, and they should draw a line under it before any further complications could arise. Her life, and her feelings, were already more complicated than she could handle. In other versions—more than she cared to admit—she and Arthur had fallen on each other the moment they were alone. Those fantasies had become more and more explicit the harder she had tried to resist them. Being laid up in sick bay alongside two grieving, injured soldiers had condemned her to a restless night with no outlet for her frustration.

“I didn’t, sir,” she said.

The scene playing out now did not match either of her imagined extremes. Maxson was hesitant, scanning her face for something. He wanted her, she could see that much, but he held back. Perhaps he was considering calling it off, too. Joanna was shocked by the way her heart twisted at the thought. The brief taste she’d had of him had stirred a longing so fierce it outweighed all her common sense. Perhaps even outweighed her guilt.

“Neither did I.” He broke eye contact, glancing down at the floor. “To be honest, I was a little surprised to learn you were still here.”

“You forbid me from leaving, remember?”

A faint smile played at his lips. “You’ve finally started listening to me, then?”

“I—” She flushed as he turned his eyes on her again. They were so blue. And she was so screwed. “I said a lot of stupid things yesterday,” she said. “I’m sorry I spoke to you the way I did.”

“I was out of line, too. I lost my temper, and I regret it. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“I do.” She watched him, noting the little tics in his features. The cracks in his composure. “Is... there anything else you regret?”

He exhaled heavily. “Not for a second.”

She took a step toward him. “Arthur,” she began. Before she could get any further he reached for her, but not before Joanna glimpsed the look in his eyes when she said his name. Like pain and relief at the same time.

He kissed her. She swayed against him and he caught her, one hand on her waist to steady her, the other warm against her bare neck. Her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensations of his lips on hers, the soft scratch of his beard. He grew more confident by the second as she kissed him back in earnest. She ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, but she had barely even begun to enjoy the shape of him under his uniform when there was a knock at the door. Cursing under his breath, Maxson pulled away.

“Don’t answer it?” Joanna said hopefully, but it was too much to hope that she could have him to herself.

He headed for the door, but not before grabbing a clipboard up off the table and shoving it into her hands.

“Act busy,” he muttered, and went to the door.

Joanna pretended to be engrossed in a handwritten fuel consumption report while Maxson let an older officer in dark uniform into the room. They talked in low tones for a few minutes, though Joanna was too distracted by the interrupted kiss to pay much attention. She heard Ingram’s name mentioned, and something called Project Caliburnus. As the man turned to leave, she sensed him looking at her.

“Knight Mayes,” he said. “How good to see you again.”

Joanna looked over the man’s face with its neat, greying beard and tired eyes. “Have we met, sir?”

“Paladin Brandis,” he said, and held out a hand.

Joanna stared in surprise. “Of course,” she said. She lowered the clipboard and shook his hand. “I apologise, you look—”

“Clean?” Brandis chuckled.

“Different,” she replied with a smile. “Better.” The Paladin was still lean from surviving on a meagre diet at the bunker, but otherwise he was completely transformed from the red-eyed, shaggy-haired wild man she and Danse had encountered a few weeks ago. He was perfectly turned out from trimmed hair to polished boots.

“I certainly feel better,” he replied with a smile. “Particularly now that the Elder has authorised my return to duty.”

Joanna smiled politely. “I believe you have a daughter on board the Prydwen, sir?” She could feel Maxson’s eyes burning into her. Keeping her gaze off him was torture. “It must have been wonderful to see her again.”

“Yes, it was. I’d assumed Cara was back at the Citadel with her mother. I’d been gone for so long... I thought I’d never see either of them again. Thanks to you and Danse, I have. You must allow me to buy you both a drink some time.” He chuckled. “To think, I owe my life to a couple of wastelanders.”

Joanna wasn’t sure what to say that, so she simply raised an eyebrow.

“Were you on deck for the Elder’s speech, Knight?” Brandis asked.

“I was,” she replied, and took the opportunity to glance at Maxson. “I thought it was excellent.”

“Thank you, Knight,” Maxson said. He held her eye for a beat longer than was strictly necessary before turning back to Brandis. “Was there anything further, Paladin?”

“Not for today, sir.”

The Paladin bid them both goodbye and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“ _A couple of wastelanders_?” she said.

“He meant no offence,” Maxson replied. “We haven’t always allowed outsiders into our ranks. Some of our officers are further behind the times than others. Like Brandis, whose name has been in the Brotherhood for generations.”

“So has yours,” she replied.

“I like to think I’m a little more adaptable.”

Joanna recalled what he had said during their argument, about having to explain his feelings for an unruly wastelander to the Western Elders. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as forward-thinking as he hoped. Then again, he’d already apologised for words spoken in anger.

She frowned exaggeratedly at the clipboard. “Elder, I’m really very concerned about the rear starboard thruster—”

Arthur snatched the clipboard out of her hand and dragged her close again, cutting off her startled laugh with another kiss. The buckles on their jumpsuits clicked together as he backed up toward the table, pulling her with him, mouth still locked with hers as he rested his weight on the edge. She tried and failed to keep herself from whimpering as his tongue pushed between her parted lips. He breathed his own soft sound into her mouth as he ran broad hands up and down the curve of her spine, handling her gently, wary of her injuries, though Joanna was still acutely aware of his strength. She smoothed her palms over the hard wall of his chest. The thought of being alone with him outside the confines of his schedule and their confounded uniforms almost made her moan aloud in frustration. They couldn’t risk getting too carried away. Eventually they broke apart, both panting and hot-faced.

“God, you’re distracting,” she said.

“I’d apologise, but you’re no better.” He stroked her jaw softly. “Say my name again?”

She reached up and ran a loving touch down his face, tracing the line of the deep scar on his cheek. “Arthur,” she said.

That one word from her lips softened his hard features like a magic spell. He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by a light rap at the door. Joanna groaned.

Arthur squeezed his eyes closed for a second. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said, though she felt like screaming. “I understand.”

Arthur called for his new visitor to enter. This time it was a pair of squires delivering a report from Scribe Neriah’s lab. Joanna pretended to busy herself with the fuel report again, sneaking glances over the top of the clipboard as the Elder spoke firmly yet kindly to his young charges. The way they mirrored his formal posture was cute, but it tugged at her heart sadly. The younger of the pair looked only a year or two older than Shaun.

“Find Paladin Danse and tell him I sent for him,” Maxson told the boy and girl before ushering them from the room.

“Are you kidding me?” she grumbled once the door was closed again. “Do you really need Danse _right now_?”

“Unfortunately, I do.” Arthur went to the table and set down the folder the squires had brought. She followed and laid her clipboard on top of a large map of the area north of the river. “I actually _did_ call you here for a reason other than the—” His gaze flicked down over her lips. “—pleasure of your company.”

“What could be more important than that?”

“I’ve decided to grant your request to spend some time convalescing at the Castle.” He took her hand and drew her closer. “On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Danse goes too. I’ll be happier knowing that he’s with you.”

She slid an arm around his waist. “I’m more than happy for Danse to join me, but it’s not necessary for him to babysit.”

“The Castle could be attacked at any time.”

“The last thing that attempted to attack the Castle was a mirelurk queen, and we took care of her ourselves.”

He looked appalled. “A mirelurk queen?”

“Yes, but as I said, we kicked her ass. And that was before we’d even taken back the fort. Now it’s one of the most heavily fortified strongholds in the Commonwealth. And it’s full of soldiers just as willing to protect me as you are.”

Arthur reached up and brushed his knuckles along the line of her cheekbone. “I doubt that,” he muttered.

Joanna rolled her eyes. “The point is, I’ll be fine.” She took his hand and kissed the palm. “It’s good of you to reconsider. Thank you. I’ve been gone from the Castle too long.”

He sighed. “I knew it was selfish of me to keep you here. I just didn’t want you to leave.”

“And now?”

“I still don’t. However, you need to heal, and I have work to do. And I think we’ve already established that you are very, _very_ distracting.” He bent his head to kiss her ear. “Just promise you won’t run off to fight supermutants again.”

“No supermutants.”

“Or anything else, for that matter.”

“I promise.”

Her arms slid around his shoulders and he pulled her tight to him. He gave her what she supposed was a goodbye-for-now kiss, slow and deep and sensual, like he was savouring the taste of her. She didn’t want it to end. God, he was going to drive her mad, getting her addicted like this and then sending her away.

As though he had read her mind, he pulled away and said roughly, “I suppose... I could try to get away. For a few hours.”

“To visit me?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow, perhaps,” he said. “I have too much to do today. But tomorrow... Well, Knight Captain Cade keeps telling me I need to take time off. Maybe it’s about time I took his advice.”

“Isn’t that risky?” she replied. “Won’t someone notice?” Danse and Preston would, if nothing else. And then she would never hear the end of it.

“I’ll think of something.”

She stared into his eyes, knowing it was foolish to encourage something so reckless. They needed time apart to cool down. But she had been so hungry for so long. “I do have more privacy there than you do here,” she said haltingly.

His eyes almost burned through her as he read into what she had said. He grabbed her in both arms and lifted her like she was made of paper and air, devouring her mouth. She wanted to wrap her legs around him, but she was still too stiff and bruised, so she clung on tighter with her arms instead. He set her down on the edge of the table, on top of his maps and reports, and tilted her head back by her hair to plant hot kisses on her throat. Joanna gasped and clawed him closer, one hand cupping the back of his head where the hair was clipped velvet short. She shivered as his teeth scraped the skin above her collar. It was too much, all of this at once, too much for her worn out, touch-starved body to bear. And yet it was nowhere near enough. She was so turned on it was almost painful. Tears stung her eyes.

Danse’s knock on the door had them both spitting curses. Arthur peeled away from her reluctantly and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. They both panted like they’d run a mile. She knew she must be red-faced and dishevelled, and quickly straightened her hair and pressed the backs of her hands to her cheeks in an effort to cool them. She dropped down off the table and went to stand near Arthur’s desk. She couldn’t keep her gaze from trailing down his body to make sure his feelings were not making themselves too visibly known. Fortunately the assorted straps and layers of the uniform served the useful purpose of keeping every part of him tightly under wraps. Fortunate on this occasion, at least.

“Come,” Maxson called, and Danse strode into the room a moment later. He was in power armour, though it was stripped down to the frame in places.

“Elder,” he said. “Knight.”

Joanna could only smile weakly at him.

“Paladin Danse,” Maxson said, voice ragged around the edges. “I’m sending you to the Minutemen headquarters with Knight Mayes for a few days. She still requires rest and recuperation, and she assures me it will be quieter there. Based on Knight Captain Cade’s reports, I feel you could also do with some more time.”

Joanna noticed the slight narrowing of Danse’s eyes as he looked back and forth between her and Maxson. After a moment he nodded. “Of course, sir,” he said. “Although I assure you I am in excellent health.”

“Danse,” Arthur said more gently. “You and I both know that not all damage shows on the outside. I don’t doubt your physical ability. Should a threat be made on the Castle, you have my permission to engage in combat. However, until you are required for a field mission, I want you taking the very best care of yourself.”

“I’ll do whatever is asked of me, sir,” Danse replied. “But may I take some work along? I’ve promised to help Proctor Ingram with some armour modifications while she’s busy with Caliburnus.”

“By all means. Go and prepare whatever you need now. I’ll have a Vertibird prepared to drop in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Danse cast one final suspicious glance at Joanna before leaving.

She and Arthur were careful not to get too heated as they said goodbye, although Joanna couldn’t resist catching his bottom lip between her teeth before she pulled away from their kiss, just a teasing hint of what she’d like to do once they had the time and the privacy. His brows twitched as he moved back.

“Make sure you look after yourself, too,” she told him, looking at the dark circles under his eyes. “You need to sleep.”

He nodded a silent promise, and she traced his smile with her fingers as though she could keep it with her.

*

Danse gave her sidelong glances for the duration of the short flight. He was itching to say something, though he didn’t dare within earshot of the pilot. But Joanna could practically feel the pressure of it building in him like air in a balloon. The pilot set them down near the Castle, and Danse helped her to climb out. He hefted a huge crate of armour parts from the back of the ’bird before waving it off.

“Knight.” Danse’s voice halted her before she could walk up the rise to the fort. “Before we go inside, I’d like a word.”

Joanna turned and peered up at him. He stood well over a foot taller than her in his armour. “Of course.”

He held up two armoured fingers. “Two things,” he said. “First of all, did you report that I was unfit for duty?”

“No! I didn’t say a word,” she replied. “I swear. In fact, I told Maxson I was fine to return alone.”

He huffed, but seemed to take her at her word. “Second, this situation between you and the Elder.” He sighed, looking grave. “It has to stop.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a Knight of the Brotherhood,” he went on, frowning down at her in the same chastising way he had when she first signed up as Initiate and tested his patience with one too many smartass questions. “I understand that you’ve been through a lot, and I sympathise. Really I do. But I urge you to exhibit some self-control.”

Joanna felt like a teenager whose dad had caught her getting felt up by her prom date. Her huge, metal-clad dad. “I would have thought you’d be happy,” she said.

“Why on earth would I be happy that my protégé is still locking horns with the commander of our order?”

She blinked at him as the words echoed through her head. “Oh, god. That’s—not what we were locking.”

Danse frowned deeper. “I don’t follow.”

Joanna turned away and pressed a cool hand against her eyes. “We weren’t fighting, Danse.”

“Then what were you doing? Because the atmosphere in that room was unbear—” He took in the flush in her cheeks and finally twigged. “Oh.” His eyes went as wide as saucers and Joanna thought he turned a little pink himself. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”

Danse looked from her to the Prydwen in the distance and then back again, eyebrows aloft. He laughed out loud and shook his head. “You two are just full of surprises,” he said.

Joanna smiled. “Tell me about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep you all waiting so long for this one! I can't quite believe I agonised for so long over this when so little even happens, but I really hope you enjoy it. Some sappiness to make up for all the pain. Your words continue to keep me going when I'm driving myself mad trying to turn this saga in my head into something that makes sense on a page. Thank you thank you thank you for your continued support! <3


	17. Chapter 17

A knock on the door to her quarters stirred Joanna from sleep. She was so comfortable under the blankets and yao guai fur that she had half a mind to grumble at whoever it was to come back in the morning. Then she blearily remembered Preston’s promise to fetch her for dinner and celebratory drinks upstairs. It wouldn’t be fair to let everyone down. She opened her mouth to tell him to come in, but was promptly reminded of her state of undress.

“Two minutes,” she called.

She slid out of bed, naked from the waist down, and rummaged around under the covers to retrieve her underwear. Being alone in her private chambers had meant not only an opportunity for a few hours of warm, peaceful sleep, but a chance to finally release some of the tension that had been tying her body in knots since she and Arthur first kissed. Hell, since long before that. The man was a menace. She hadn’t been this turned on in as long as she could remember, and after a week in the sick bay she’d been overdue some alone time.

Her orgasm had been so intense she still had bite marks on the meat of her palm.

Maybe it was that old idea of sex being an antidote to death. The two conflicting drives. Eros and Thanatos. She almost hoped that was the case. Because the alternative—that this was simply the effect Arthur Maxson had on her—meant she may never know peace.

“Feeling better?” Preston asked cheerfully when she finally opened the door, dressed and booted. “You looked like you needed that.”

Joanna laughed nervously. “You have no idea.”

She wedged the tricorn hat on her head and pulled on her fancy coat as she followed Preston up the stairs to the west bastion. She ought to dress the part while she was here. The General’s garb didn’t get taken out very often since it wasn’t really suitable for her forays into the wasted city. She preferred something a little more resistant to rads. And bullets.

Preston glanced back over his shoulder as he climbed. “Would you mind saying a few words before we get started on dinner?”

“Uh.” The question startled Joanna. How stupid of her. Of course the Minutemen would want to hear her speak. She was their leader; in name, at least. The man ahead of her was the one putting in the legwork. “Sure,” she said.

The courtyard was lit with an assortment of burning torches and strings of electric lights. Stars gleamed between the clouds, and Joanna hoped the rain would hold off for a few more hours. She hadn’t yet developed that extra sense her Commonwealth friends had for judging what the weather had in store.

The Minutemen wanted to welcome their General home in style, so a huge fire had been lit in the training yard with seats arranged in a wide circle around it. Someone had taken note of Joanna’s fragile physical state and brought out the most comfortable chair just for her. Danse was already seated in a chair to the left. He had put away the power armour for now, but he still stuck out like a sore thumb in his orange jumpsuit. Joanna wondered how he and Preston had been getting along while she was resting. Knowing Danse, he’d kept his distance. She’d have to give them a gentle shove in the right direction later. Maybe lock them in a broom closet.

She pulled out her seat but remained standing. Preston settled on a stool to her right. She cast a glance around the circle as the remaining gatherers took their places and a hush fell over the courtyard.

The last time she’d given an impromptu speech had been on her last day in the precinct before departing on maternity leave, and had ended with her cutting into a cake shaped like a rather deformed baby lying in a pram. She couldn’t even remember what she’d said, but it had probably involved her affectionately giving the others shit before getting moist-eyed and emotional when Captain Keir had presented her with a miniature Boston PD badge with ‘Junior Officer’ printed across it. Her colleagues had drunk champagne from plastic cups (she was on the lemonade), made crass diaper jokes, and argued over who got to suck the frosting from the pacifier on the creepy baby cake.

This was a little different.

She thought of Arthur’s speech that morning. She pictured the stiff line of soldiers on the deck hanging on his every impassioned word. He seemed to breathe fire into them without even trying. She was supposed to be a leader too, but she had none of his discipline.

Then she thought of Nate. He hadn’t been the natural speaker Arthur was. He had agonised for hours over his heartfelt address for the Veteran’s Ball, but when he’d sat Joanna down in their living room the night before the bombs fell and read through what he planned to say, his message had brought tears to her eyes. She only wished more could have heard it. She wished they had proven him wrong instead of right.

She had nothing to offer that could compare. But perhaps she could borrow a little from both men. She looked around at the soldiers and civilians gathered here, perched on chairs and benches and even upturned buckets, all eyes on her as they waited for her to speak and inspire.

“Wow,” she said. “All these eyes on me. You’re making me wonder if I really do glow in the dark.” There was a low ripple of laughter. “I’ve been away for a while, and there are a lot of new faces here I haven’t met yet. I’m hoping to put that right in the next few days. But for now, welcome, and thank you for joining the Minutemen. Believe me, I wouldn’t have spent so long away if it wasn’t important, and if I didn’t have someone as capable as Colonel Garvey here to keep things running in the meantime. Thank you, Colonel. Couldn’t do it without you.”

That was a profound understatement. Preston beamed back at her, and ducked his head bashfully as someone whooped and set off a messy round of applause.

“As you most likely know, I’ve just gotten back from a mission into the Glowing Sea with our friends from the Brotherhood of Steel.” She gestured at Danse. “You don’t need me to tell you that the biggest threat on anyone’s radar right now is the Institute, and I’m working with the Brotherhood to figure out the best way to deal with that threat. But I don’t want to talk to you tonight about the Institute. I want to talk about the real reason we’re all here. The long term plan.”

She looked across the fire and spotted Jake Finch, the kid who’d had more than his fingers burned trying to fit in with the raider gang at the old ironworks. It seemed his attempts to make peace with his father had failed if he had decided to join the Minutemen. Not far from him sat a young couple whom Joanna recognised from Starlight. The scruffy older man sitting cross-legged on the floor she thought she had seen around Diamond City. There were many more faces, some familiar, others not. A couple of ghouls mixed in with the smoothskins. She wondered what pasts this odd assortment of folk hid behind their Minutemen insignias. Farmers and settlers, certainly. Former raiders. Vault dwellers, perhaps? Ex-Gunners?

“Some of you have left your families to be here,” Joanna said. “Some of you have lost your families. You may be here because you believe in our cause, or you may be here because you didn’t know where else to go. Whatever past you’ve walked away from, honestly, it doesn’t matter. If you’re willing to put it behind you, then so will we. Because it’s the future that’s important now.”

She watched the flames licking at the circle of concrete blocks. A whiff of roasting meat reached her from the cooking station across the yard, and she willed her stomach not to growl too loudly.

“A very smart man once told me that war never changes,” she went on. “Well, I’ve seen how war has changed everything around us. But it remains to be seen if he was right. If we really are doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over. I’d like to believe that we won’t. I’d like to believe that we can do something better. And that starts with people like us. The ones on the ground, putting the past behind us, rebuilding and sharing and looking out for one another.

“There are people out there who’d kill you for the food on your plate. And for that reason, there will be times when many of you will have to fight. I can guarantee that you’ll be learning from one of the best here under Major Shaw.”

She turned to nod at Ronnie Shaw, who sat a couple of seats away from Preston. Shaw tapped her head at Joanna in an casual salute, and more applause crackled around the circle. The relationship between the two women was still somewhat forced, but it was warming slowly. Joanna thought a lot of Shaw, and she understood the Major’s doubts about her suitability as General; hell, she agreed with most of them. But she was stubborn enough to want to prove them wrong.

Joanna turned back to the crowd. “The only reason someone kills for food is because their plate is empty,” she went on. “That aspect of war hasn’t changed. The Great War, as crazy as it seems to us now, was fought over resources. Right now, there are more guns out there than there is food. There’s no law. There’s no order. If we’re going to change that, we need to do it not just by fighting, but by building a Commonwealth where nobody needs to kill or steal to survive. By filling every plate, and putting a roof over every head. I know it sounds like a tall order. But bear with me.

“I don’t know how many of you know this, but before the war, the Boston metropolitan area had a population of over four million people.” She paused a moment to let that sink in. “Now it’s in the thousands. This is a big world and there’s a lot of space for those of us who are left. Life here isn’t easy. None of us has a lot. But if we work at it, there can be more than enough here for all of us. If it seems impossible, well... To paraphrase another smart man I know, we’ll get there by listening to our hopes, not our doubts. Look how far they’ve brought us already. In just a few months the Minutemen have fought their way back from the brink of extinction. We’ve built new settlements and strengthened existing ones. In such a short time we’ve developed a network of fifteen settlements, connected—”

“Sixteen,” Preston interjected quietly at her side.

Joanna paused and grinned as laughter rang around the circle. “ _Sixteen_ settlements,” she went on. “Connected by trade routes. And hundreds of people bringing them to life and making them thrive. That’s one hell of an achievement. Let’s celebrate it tonight. Eat your fill and drink ’til you drop. And tomorrow, let’s start working on the next sixteen.”

She figured the roar that went up as she finished, whistles and stomping feet adding to the riotous applause, was probably more to do with the eating and drinking than anything else she’d said. It felt damn good nevertheless. Her speech may have been more rambling than Arthur’s and less poignant than Nate’s, but she had done her best. She took her seat beside Danse, who clapped his big hands and gave her a wink. On her other side, Preston’s smile lit up the night.

The cooks had been slaving over hot stoves in the kitchen while what appeared to be a whole half a brahmin rotated slowly over a fire at the edge of the courtyard. Joanna was practically drooling by the time someone brought her a laden plate. The meat was delicious, and it turned out tato actually tasted pretty good when it was mashed with carrot and seasoned with sea salt.

Minutemen had no problem talking with their mouths full. The sound of voices rang around the courtyard throughout the feast, and many took advantage of the General’s presence to bombard her with questions. The topic they were most keen to hear about was the deathclaw attack. Joanna was struck once again by the symmetry between herself and Maxson. She hoped having her ass slammed into the ground by a wasteland demon would not prove to be the persisting legend of her post-war life. She did her best to make an entertaining tale of it, but the Glowing Sea had cast a long shadow over her, and it was not so simple to detach from the impact of having come so close to death.

Danse picked up on her hesitation and took over, quickly steering the topic onto his other deathclaw encounters around the Commonwealth and Capital Wasteland. That got everyone competing over outrageous stories, and soon a somewhat embellished version of the mirelurk queen attack on the Castle was being recounted, complete with dramatic sound effects and re-enactment of key scenes.

Once bellies were filled, the booze really began to flow and the singing started. Those not adding their voices to the motley choir broke into smaller huddles to talk and laugh. Preston turned to Joanna, who was shifting in her chair to get comfortable.

“How’s the wine?”

“About two hundred years past its best,” Joanna replied. She lifted the bottle up to the light to check the level. She was making good headway. Her excuse was that it helped with the back pain. “But it gets better the more I drink. So, yeah, in another glass or two’s time, it should taste pretty good.”

“See Sheffield over there?” Preston pointed across the fire to the grey-haired man Joanna had spotted earlier, who was now playing a harmonica. “Says he has a recipe for mutfruit wine that’ll blow your mind. Never drinks a drop himself, I think he used to have... you know, a problem. But he says he’s happy to make it for the rest of us. As soon as the recruits got wind of that, they went on a salvage mission to the Gwinnett Brewery. In case you were wondering what all those barrels and bottles were doing in the tunnels.”

She’d vaguely noticed them earlier on her way to bed. She was more than happy to devote a space in the Castle’s underground quarters to such a worthy purpose. “I like Sheffield already,” she replied. “Maybe I should appoint him morale officer.”

They sat and watched the revelry for a while. Danse had been dragged into an argument about power armour with a couple of ghouls and a kid with black flames tattooed around his eyes. Joanna kept a wary eye on the Paladin, but it all seemed good-natured enough.

“I’m not talking about strength,” the ghoul woman was saying. “There’s not a chance all that metal isn’t a handicap to attack speed.”

Danse clapped his hands on his knees and sighed before getting to his feet. “I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong,” he announced, to jeers from his new audience.

“Don’t break anything!” Joanna hollered after him. She cast a sly glance at Preston. “Why don’t you go watch him?”

Preston was already watching Danse’s retreating back. “Maybe later. I’d like to show you the new mortars, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“You bet,” she said. She hadn’t had time for much more than a quick round of greetings when she’d arrived that afternoon. The call of her bed had been too strong. “Lead the way.”

They climbed the stairs to the battlements, after a brief diversion to grab some beers, and she admired the artillery pieces placed at three of the five corners of the fort. The largest weapons in the Minutemen’s arsenal had been a key topic of conversation over dinner. Two were existing cannons that had been restored while the third had been built almost from scratch. Joanna ran a hand along the huge barrel in awe. These guns were relics of another age; but then so was she. A time traveller. Past, present and future all stacked one on top of the other.  

“I’d ask for a demonstration, but I think that should wait for tomorrow,” Joanna said.

“When everyone’s hung over? That’s just cruel, General.”

They wandered over to the old iron railings that overlooked the courtyard and cracked open their beers. The bottles had been chilling in seawater all evening, and despite being rinsed off there was a lingering touch of salt to Joanna’s first swig of Gwinnett ale. Someone was playing a fiddle down below. A knot of recruits danced in a sloppy circle, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, legs kicking in time until one man fell, dragging the rest down to the ground in a graceless, raucous heap. Joanna laughed and glanced at Preston, but his attention was elsewhere.

She followed the line of his gaze. Danse stood in his power armour giving enthusiastic instruction to the tattooed recruit from earlier as the kid jabbed at a straw-stuffed training dummy with the butt of his rifle. After a moment Danse looked up at the battlements and smiled a big, warm smile when he spotted them. No, not _them_ ; his eyes were on Preston, who smiled coyly back and tipped his head in acknowledgement. Joanna brought the beer to her lips to keep from cackling with delight.

She turned and leaned her back against the railing, staring off at the dim silver shape of the Prydwen. God, there must be something in the water. Something other than an alarming level of radiation. While her best friends made puppy dog eyes at each other, she was like a teenager again, stomach fluttering whenever she thought of Arthur. It almost made her laugh to think that the last time she had come to the Castle she’d been livid after his marriage proposal, and now they were—Well, she didn’t know what they were. Not partners. Not lovers, although the thought of becoming Arthur’s lover made her tingle from head to toe.

Preston heard her let out a sigh and turned to face her. “You okay?”

She shook her head and laughed softly. “I think I’m losing my mind, Preston.”

“Why?” He looked over at the airship and then back at her. “Having doubts?”

“About what?”

“This partnership with the Brotherhood.”

“No,” she said. “Not about that.”

“What, then?” He grinned. “Rethinking a certain offer of marriage?”

The startled look she gave him must have tipped him off. “Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t tell me you—Seriously? Did something happen?” He dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper. “With _Maxson_?”

She didn’t reply, just swigged her beer too fast and made herself cough.

“Damn, General.”

She wiped her mouth and looked him in the eye, albeit sheepishly. Preston shook his head a little, then smiled despite himself.

“Unbelievable. Now I know why you were gone so long.”

“Shut up,” she said, shoving him in the arm. He gave her a mock punch in return.

“Of all the people,” he said, and sighed. “Couldn’t just fall for a Minuteman, could you? Nope, had to be the leader of the authoritarian army.”

“Are you going to berate me for long?” she grumbled. “Just let me know and I’ll plug my ears. Or maybe send you out to build a new settlement in the middle of the swamp.”

“Bring it on, ’cause I am gonna give you _hell_ over this.” Preston chuckled. He propped one elbow on the railing and watched her expectantly. “Well, go on.”

“Go on, what?”

“You are not gonna drop that on me without giving me details.”

“I—” She felt herself blush. She was drunk. “Nothing happened. Nothing... you know, _bed-related_. We just kissed.”

“Uh huh?”

“Yeah.” She went even redder. “A lot.”

Preston quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, okay, and...?”

Joanna rolled her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. How did this happen? ”

She glanced around to make sure there were no witnesses to her humiliation. “We started out arguing, which is nothing new. Things got more heated than usual, and then... a lot of other stuff came out.” She fidgeted with her bottle. “I guess it’s been building for a while, but I didn’t want to admit it. He made me admit it. And then... well, that’s it. He kissed me.” She thought of Arthur’s lips on her neck, and shivered.

“When was this?”

“Last night.”

“And today?”

Her cheeks glowed and she laughed in embarrassment. “Today there was more kissing. God, I feel like an idiot.” She took in his rapt expression. “And look at you, you’re loving this. Don’t you have any romance novels to read?”

“Hey, life around here is all guns, mirelurks and tying myself in knots setting up supply lines. I’m more than ready to hear about some kissing for a change.” His smile slipped. “But I know it’s not that simple. How do you feel about him?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “He’s... not what I thought he was at first. There’s a lot more to him. And he has done a hell of a lot for me. For us. He’s a good man. There are still things that worry me about his outlook, but... I don’t know. He’s shown me there are ways we can work together.”

“Yeah, I noticed that in your speech.”

“You don’t approve?”

He shrugged. “I’m coming around to the fact that we won’t get rid of the Institute without the Brotherhood’s help. I’m still not sure what happens after that.”

Joanna thought about what Danse had told her in the cave in the Glowing Sea. Her giddy feeling deflated a little. “After that, they go home.”

They both processed that for a moment. The night was growing cooler. It would be good to get back to the fire.

“So is this just a fling?” Preston asked.

Joanna watched the Prydwen, and wondered if Arthur was standing on his deck staring back. She knew it was foolish, but she hoped he was.

“I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want every note I write to start with 'argh sorry this took so long' so... um... *tries to think of something else*
> 
> Thank you for your patience guys. The trouble with writing this beast is that the further I get, the more work it takes to finish a chapter. I know how frustrating that is for me, so you have all been so super sweet to not just shake me and yell. XD 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I was looking forward to having more Preston time, and exploring Joanna's place in the Minutemen a little more. 
> 
> And letting her finally get off, because seriously, I felt like a monster.


	18. Chapter 18

“You’re never gonna believe it,” Sturges’ voice crackled from the speaker. “Dogmeat’s gonna be a father! Over.”

Joanna perked up. She had spent most of the day in the shack under the radio tower, contacting every settlement in possession of a two-way radio to catch up on developments and answer queries. It had given her a headache—on top of the remnants of her hangover—keeping track of trade routes and problem spots, tapping away on her Pip-boy map as farmers, guards and engineers unburdened their issues. The news from Sanctuary was more upbeat. A few new settlers had arrived, so Sturges had more hands to put to work clearing trees on the north-eastern edge of town as they expanded the farmland. The Brotherhood scribes continued to drop in once a week to monitor the progress of the new plants with Marcy and Jun. New life was blooming, in more ways than one. 

Joanna smiled and pushed the button on her taped-together headset. “What are you talking about? Who’s he been fooling around with? Over.” 

“You know Belle over at Red Rocket?” he said. Joanna pictured the scarred junkyard mutt who helped patrol the Minutemen guard post. “Well, turns out Dogmeat’s been paying her some late night calls. Ain’t that right, you old ladies’ man?”

Dogmeat had heard his name and fussed in the background until Sturges called him over. Joanna grinned when she heard claws scrabbling on Sturges’ desk and a snuffling nose nudging at the microphone.

“Y’all take care out there, General,” Sturges told her. “Over.” 

“I’ll come see you soon,” she promised. “Over and out.” 

She got up, back creaking, and went out into the yard. The early evening sky was the colour of peach skin. She found Preston on his way to the kitchens and shared the happy news. His eyes widened like a child’s at the prospect of a litter of puppies.

They sat in a quiet corner away from the other diners to eat leftover cold cuts and fried tato, and discussed how to tackle the raiders preying on their supply lines. The provisioners running the western lines had avoided the worst dangers by altering routes and splitting loads between caravans, but the eastern settlements, particularly Finch Farm and the Slog, were locked down until the roads were safer. It was only a matter of time before raiders decided to hit the settlements directly. Preston confirmed Joanna’s fears that a gang had moved back into the old ironworks. 

Danse hadn’t showed up for dinner, which wasn’t like him, so they loaded up a plate and went in search of him. 

“The possibility has been raised of just blowing Saugus sky high,” Preston ventured as they left the dining hall. “We don’t have the manpower to hold it.” 

“Was that Ronnie’s suggestion, by any chance?” Joanna replied. “No. A working foundry is too valuable. Not just for weapons, but imagine the building materials we could use it for. Generator parts, tools, you name it.” 

They found Danse in the workshop in the eastern barracks, tinkering with some elaborate looking armour joints at a work bench. His T-60 suit was mounted on the power armour station. He paused his work to gobble down the food they’d brought. 

“Danse, do you think the Brotherhood could help us secure the Saugus Ironworks north of here? I’m surprised you haven’t gone after it already, to be perfectly honest.” 

“The location has been noted,” he replied. “The materials would be useful, but not essential, and the apparatus is fairly standard. The Brotherhood’s knowledge of metallurgy surpassed a facility like that decades ago. I imagine it would be of use to the Minutemen, though. As for providing help; unfortunately that’s not my call to make.” 

“No,” she said, tapping her fingers on the bench. “I could ask Arthur, although he’s focusing everything he has on the Institute right now.” 

She saw Danse catch Preston’s eye and flash him a quick grin before she realised her mistake. She sighed. “All right, let’s get this over with,” she said. “Yes, I’m on first name terms with him. It’s hardly a big secret since I told you both myself. So can we just get the playground stuff out of the way and move on?” 

Danse chuckled and set his empty plate down. “Kiss your hat goodbye, Garvey.” 

“Not a chance,” Preston replied. 

Joanna glared at them each in turn. Preston cracked first. “Danse has it in his head that we’re gonna be planning a wedding soon.” 

Danse gave him a sly sideways glance before kneeling down to fit a right knee joint back onto the T-60 frame. 

“Oh for—You can forget about that right now,” Joanna said sternly. 

“I bet my hat you won’t change your mind,” Preston went on. “And he bet his laser rifle that you will.” 

Danse just smirked as he stood and unhooked the chains connecting his armour to the rack. “Only time will tell,” he said. He opened the suit with a pneumatic hiss and climbed inside. 

“How about I come in on this wager?” Joanna said. She folded her arms and looked from Danse to Preston and back. “I bet the two of you that I will be the _last_ of us to ever marry.” 

Danse lifted the right leg of his armour and flexed it a few times, testing the joint. “What are you willing to put in?” 

Joanna narrowed her eyes at him and thought for a moment. “My Pip-boy,” she said at last. 

He grinned back at her. “I’ll look forward to wearing it on the big day.” He looked at Preston. “Along with your hat.” 

He did an experimental jump that shook the floor and startled the Minuteman who had just rounded the corner looking for Preston. The Colonel excused himself and vanished off down the hall. 

Joanna turned back to Danse. “Look,” she said. “Just—Please don’t talk about that stuff when we go back. Don’t mention the _M-word_ to him. To Arthur.” 

Danse watched her for a moment. “We were just joking around about the bet,” he said. “Having said that, there are far worse decisions you could make about your future.” 

She sighed and looked down at her hands. “I can’t make a decision like that. You know Shaun comes first.” 

“I do. I also know that Arthur Maxson has more power to guarantee a safe future for you and your son than anyone else in the eastern territories.” He stopped pacing his armour back and forth to look down at her. “Caring for him doesn’t have to mean compromising what you want for your family. Quite the opposite, I’d say.” 

“Danse, I can’t just marry someone so they can protect me.” She saw his sceptical look and shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right. He deserves better than that.” 

“What if he’s already convinced there is no one better?” 

“I’m... It’s not that simple for me. I still love someone else. I’m not in a position to commit to a future with him. Not the future he wants.” 

“I understand,” Danse replied. “Or I can at least try to. And I hope that whatever you decide makes both of you happy.” His expression grew sombre. “But if you really do believe you’re going to hurt him, don’t drag it out.” 

A soft cough interrupted them. Joanna turned to the young recruit watching her nervously. 

“Excuse me, General, but you have a visitor.” 

*

She watched with a smile on her face as Arthur circled the artillery piece with wide-eyed admiration. His reaction was uncannily similar to her own.

“Jealous?” she asked him.

He ran a gloved hand around the iron barrel. “I must say, I’d love to install something like this back at the Citadel. We have mounted guns, of course, but these must have a far greater range.”

“Over a mile,” she replied.

She eventually lured him away to the guard post above the main gate through which he had entered a short time ago. A brisk easterly wind was picking up. From the look of the sky to the west, a storm was heading in. They turned up their collars against the cold.

Arthur looked around at the battlements and the yard within the five walls. “This is becoming a formidable base,” he said. “As a matter of fact, it reminds me of the Citadel. It’s even the same shape, although the Citadel is larger. In your day it was a major base of government operations.”

“Wait a minute—” The penny dropped, followed by Joanna’s jaw. “Are you telling me that the Citadel... is the _Pentagon_?”

“That’s right. Well, the original complex was mostly destroyed in the war. The Brotherhood rebuilt it more or less from the ground up. Twice over.”

She was still stunned. “You live in the fucking Pentagon.”

“Did you ever see it? Before?”

“No. I never went to DC. Even if I had, it wasn’t the kind of place you could just drop in.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll have to take you one day. And you can be assured full clearance.”

It made her heart do a little leap when he talked like that, the way it always had when she was younger and a new boyfriend had suggested some adventure. An all-access tour of the Pentagon certainly topped a spin in his dad’s Corvega sedan. But he was talking about a future Joanna could not guarantee. After a moment he looked away.

“How many are stationed here?”

“Just over fifty. We took it back from the mirelurks with only a dozen.” They’d lost two soldiers in the battle; one to terrible burns from the queen’s acid attack, and another who had been thrown from the battlements. They were buried in a little plot outside the walls. “Then there’s maybe another hundred or so spread around the other settlements.” She didn’t even try to keep the smugness from her voice when she added, “Not bad for an undisciplined rabble, huh?”

Arthur sighed. “I’ll gladly admit I was wrong about that. I based my opinion on little evidence. What you’ve done with the Minutemen is one hell of an accomplishment.”

Joanna watched the people milling about below. Evening had fallen and work had eased off for the day, but a few recruits still tended to weapons and carried out drills in the yard. A lone civilian watered crops in a fenced-off area beside the communications shack. The Castle was cobbled together and so was her army, but somehow it was working.

She looked into Arthur’s eyes. “Can I make a confession?”

“Of course.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m a fraud,” she said. “I haven’t done any of this. _They_ have. Preston—Colonel Garvey—He does all the real work. He organises the trade routes, oversees recruitment. And Major Shaw is the one licking the new recruits into shape. They keep all of this running day after day while I’m getting myself into trouble with the Brotherhood.”

“That may be,” Arthur said. “But your role isn’t to do the work for them. I couldn’t do Kells’ job, or Ingram’s, or Quinlan’s. My job is to inspire each of them to do the best work they can, for the greater good of the Brotherhood. You’re doing the same thing here for the Minutemen.”

“I don’t see how. I’m not a natural leader like you are.”

His eyes were clear and calm as he watched her. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You’ve only been here five minutes,” she said.

“That may be, but I’ve already noticed the way your people act around you. It was the same in Sanctuary. There’s no question you’re their leader.”

She let out a long breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Arthur.”

“Which makes it all the more impressive that you’re trying anyway. And succeeding.” His hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out to her, but he gripped the railing instead. “I’ve been trained to lead since I could walk. I’m not a natural, it’s just that this path was always laid out for me. You’ve had to make your own path, but you’ve risen to every challenge. Not just for the Minutemen. For the Brotherhood, too. It takes a truly remarkable person to do what you’ve done.”

The wind whipped through her hair and coat, but warmth bloomed inside her at his words. She wanted him to admire her. Not only because of their burgeoning romance, but because she admired him too. He’d achieved so much in his short life. And the loyalty—devotion, even—that he commanded from his men and women could not have been easily won. For all their differences of opinion, she valued his praise.

“Thank you,” she said. She looked to the north, where the lights on the Prydwen glowed dimly through the evening cloud. “How do you cope with it? All that pressure on you, for your whole life?”

“It’s my duty. I embrace it willingly.”

“Isn’t it lonely?” she asked, but of course she already knew the answer. She’d seen it in his response to every touch of her lips or her fingers. Every time she spoke his name. He may be close with his officers and speak warmly of brotherhood, but in the rigid hierarchy of his order, the role of Elder would always isolate him.

She longed to touch him now, even just to take his hand, but they were too exposed. Guards walked the walls night and day. This was the most privacy they could afford for the moment. After the short tour they would head down to meet with Danse in the command room. As for what may happen later... She couldn’t think about that just yet, or she’d be too distracted to string a sentence together. Simply having him in front of her created a constant hum of anticipation in her bones.

The first fat drops of rain began to pelt the walkway, so she led Arthur to the stone stairs behind the last of the cannons. Halfway down in the dark their hands found each other and they took advantage of the moment’s seclusion to wrap one another in a breathless kiss. Arthur’s hands pressed warm against the small of her back through her shirt, and the throb of need she felt made her shudder and tighten her arms around his neck. _Fuck_. She wished she had thought this through. She’d naively thought they would have more freedom on her turf, but figuring out how to smuggle the Elder of the Brotherhood into her quarters (and _into her bed_ , oh god) without attracting the attention of dozens of her subordinates could prove just as tricky as it had been aboard the Prydwen.

It was difficult to believe there was any business more urgent than the ache between her thighs, but there was. Arthur’s proposed meeting was more than just a convenient cover. They peeled away from each other before a search party could be sent out, and he followed her along the hallway to the command room. Danse and Preston were already waiting at the long wooden table. One of them had lit the old stove in the corner to take the chill out of the air. They got up from their chairs when Joanna and Maxson entered, and Preston started towards the door. Joanna held up a hand to stop him.

“Do you mind if Colonel Garvey stays?” she asked Arthur.

“Not at all. If you’d like any of your other officers to be here, I would welcome it.”

Joanna was pleasantly taken aback, but turned to Preston. “Would you mind fetching Major Shaw?”

While they waited for the Minutemen to return, Arthur shrugged out of his heavy leather coat and hung it over a chair. Joanna took a moment when he and Danse turned their backs to admire the lines of his body. His dark fatigues and t-shirt didn’t cling as tightly as his uniform, but she gladly drank in the sight of him. It really was getting warm in here. She took off her own coat.

Arthur pulled a long tube from the bag he’d handed to Danse when he first arrived, and slid out a roll of paper. Danse helped him spread it out on the table and weigh down the curling edges with ashtrays and whisky tumblers from the nearby cabinet. It was a map of the area north of the river; specifically the area around the CIT ruins. Joanna realised she’d seen it the day before in Arthur’s room. In fact, her ass had probably been parked somewhere around Harvard Bridge when they were making out. She cleared her throat.

“First things first,” Arthur said when all were present and introductions had been made. “Last night, Courser activity was detected around the airport.” Joanna and Danse both leaned forward in concern. “Since we learned about the Courser signal, we’ve been keeping radios around the base tuned to the lower frequencies in case this happened. We picked up on a signal at around twenty-one hundred hours, and several after midnight. There was no attack and no confirmed visual. But it would appear the Institute are increasing their surveillance of our headquarters. It’s hardly surprising. We have to assume that since one of our soldiers was abducted, our security may be compromised.”

“You think Goody talked?” Joanna asked.

“I couldn’t say. Hopefully he stood by his code and gave them nothing. But if the rumours are true, and the Institute has the capability to extract memories against a person’s will, then it’s prudent to assume the worst.”

“In which case they’d know why we’re hunting Coursers,” Danse said. He saw Preston and Ronnie Shaw cast questioning glances at one another. “The Courser synths have a chip implanted in their brains that allows them to teleport back and forth to the Institute at will,” he explained. “The Brotherhood have been focusing our efforts on getting hold of that chip.”

Arthur nodded. “So far we’ve failed. And our job will only become harder still, perhaps impossible, if they know what our plan is.” He looked from Joanna to Preston to Ronnie. “I wouldn’t normally request the Minutemen’s involvement in this matter, but I have two reasons for bringing this to your attention. The first is so you can be protected. We don’t know if the Institute considers you a threat, but it can’t hurt to exercise caution.”

“Are you telling us that the Brotherhood poked a stingwing’s nest and now the rest of us are gonna pay for it?” Ronnie remarked. Her scrawny arms were folded across her chest and she peered up at Arthur with unveiled suspicion.

“That nest is getting too big to ignore,” Joanna reasoned. Shaw didn’t know about Shaun, and Joanna would prefer it to stay that way. “There is going to be a fight sooner or later. Even if the Brotherhood lead it, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to avoid it entirely.” The major made a non-committal noise in reply. Joanna turned to Preston. “Let’s have the guards tune their radios, just in case.” He nodded.

“The second reason,” Arthur went on, “Is that we now have to formulate a back-up plan to get inside the Institute. My soldiers have swept through every inch of the CIT ruins and found no other way in or out. But I’m not prepared to admit defeat that easily.”

“How exactly can we help?” Preston asked. “You seem to know a lot more about the Institute than we do.”  

“But the Minutemen know more about the _city_ than we do. You’ve been here much longer. Maybe there’s something you can suggest that my scribes have overlooked. Anything we can learn, anything at all, gives us a better chance of finding a way in.”

“With all due respect,” Ronnie said in a tone which suggested very little respect, “What do we get in return for helping you?”

Danse scowled. “A Commonwealth without synths, for starters.”  

“No, Danse, it’s a fair question.” Arthur looked across the table at Joanna. “What do you suggest, General?”

Ronnie chuckled. “A Vertibird would be nice,” she said. “Surely you can spare a little sickly one.”

Joanna met his eye. He didn’t need to offer her anything; she wanted into the Institute more than he did. But it couldn’t hurt to make sure Preston and Ronnie were sold on the idea.

“Saugus Ironworks,” she said. “Help us take it back from raiders and secure it for the Minutemen.”

He nodded. “Agreed.”

Preston seemed pleased. Ronnie’s eyes narrowed at Arthur, but he had clearly gone up in her estimations.

For the next two hours they put their heads together and brainstormed every possible shred of useful information. Joanna recounted what she knew about the area before the bombs while Preston and Shaw shared their insights about the post-war wasteland. Joanna cracked open a bottle of whisky to help grease the wheels. Ronnie and Arthur smoked their way through half a pack of cigarettes. Thunder rumbled, getting steadily louder as the storm rolled in from the west. Once or twice the lights dimmed and flickered. Preston lit candles, just in case.

They circled the table adding countless marks and notes to Arthur’s maps. They called others in to help where necessary. Captain Cochran, the Castle’s communications officer, recalled some unusual power fluctuations in the CIT area a few months earlier. Sergeant Quintero had lived for a time in the settlement at University Point and narrowly escaped the massacre carried out by none other than Conrad Kellogg. Joanna thought of Kellogg and his party of Gen-1 soldiers, wandering the Commonwealth to loot and kill for the Institute.

“I’ve seen their scientists,” she said suddenly. All eyes fell on her. “The ones who attacked the vault I was in.” She scrunched up her eyes to remember. She had seen it all happen twice. Once through a frosted pane of glass, and again through the eyes of a murderer. “They were dressed in these all-in-one suits, like a hazmat suit. All white, with a... Like an orange tube, down the front. I guess they’re terrified of contamination.” She opened her eyes to see Arthur leaning across the table, frowning in concern. “I’m sorry. I should have thought to tell you before.”

Eventually their inspiration ran dry. Arthur thanked them all and started to put away his maps. A menacing crack of thunder split the air.

Ronnie whistled. “Hell of a radstorm,” she said. “Looks like you’re stranded for the night, Elder.”

Joanna and Arthur both looked at her in surprise, and then at each other.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said.

“Not at all,” Joanna stammered. “It would be no bother at all for you to stay.”

She had refrained from letting her mind wander too far into the gutter during the meeting, keeping her gaze from lingering too long on his face or body despite his tantalising proximity, but that one word— _stay—_ had her heart racing and palms sweating. She didn’t dare cast an eye in Danse’s direction.

“You’re welcome to use my quarters, Elder,” Preston said. Joanna glanced across at him, wishing the lights really would go out so no one could see her blush. “I can sleep in the main barracks tonight.”

“That’s very gracious of you, Colonel,” Arthur replied.

“Yes, thank you, Preston,” Joanna said.

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a little smile as he nodded to her. _You owe me one, General_. She absolutely did. Tomorrow, she would bring him flowers.

He headed into the tunnels to prepare his quarters for their guest. Ronnie and the other Minutemen retired for the night, and Danse followed soon after. He met Joanna’s eye as he went to the door. To her surprise, he didn't wink or grin at her. Instead his look conveyed what he had said to her earlier. In short: be happy; don't hurt him. She wondered if he'd given Arthur the same look. 

*

“It’s nothing special,” she said as she showed Arthur into Preston’s small room in the underground passageway.

“It’s perfect,” he replied.

There were fewer electric lights down here so she'd led him downstairs by candlelight. Preston had changed his blankets and lit the lamp. There was fresh water beside the bed. Arthur stood in the centre of the room and watched her, waiting. Joanna clutched her simple lantern and watched him back. Her heart pounded so hard she could see the candle flame flickering in time with it. She had longed to be alone with him, but now that she was, she was terrified.

Kisses were one thing. Sleeping with a man who was not her husband was another.

She wished he would break the tension. _Just kiss me already_ , she thought. _Make me stop thinking_. Perhaps she should give them both a few minutes to regroup.

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable,” she said. She ducked her head and turned toward the door.

Arthur didn’t reply. She gripped the door handle, but before she could pull it closed behind her, she glanced back over her shoulder. His face was in shadow.

“Good night, Elder,” she said. “I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am a tease. If you've made it this far, you should know that much about me. ;) 
> 
> I'm a little unsure about this chapter so please leave me your thoughts! I was sucky and didn't reply to any comments last time, but I will try to sort my shit out. You are all wonderful <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is dedicated to Tess, my OTR and most enthusiastic cheerleader. <3

She stood on the threadbare rug in the middle of her room and waited. Her nerves jangled like Christmas bells. She shook her hands out in front of her to free some of the tension.

He didn’t come.

She paced to her desk and sat in the chair. Was he waiting for her to go to him? Steal back into his room in a silky negligee? No, she’d made it clear enough where she’d be. She fiddled with her Pip-boy for a couple of minutes before growing impatient and unclasping it from her wrist. She dropped it beside her terminal with a huff.

He still didn’t come.

It was too quiet, so she got up and went to the shelf by her bed to switch on the radio. Betty Hutton’s voice bubbled out.

_“—If he kisses you and you find you like it too—”_

Joanna made a noise of irritation and tuned it to the classical station instead. The softer strains of Brahms filtered into the room, and she took a deep breath.

She flopped down onto her bed fully dressed, and started to worry. Where the hell was he? It wasn’t as though he could get lost between Preston’s quarters and hers. No one else slept down here that could have intercepted him. Joanna had offered to build Ronnie Shaw a room in the tunnels, but the major wasn’t a fan of enclosed spaces. She’d be tucked away in the main barracks for the night. So had Arthur changed his mind? Was he simply not as interested as she was? She thought of the day before in his office. The heat in his kiss before they had parted. The brief moment they had shared on the stairs earlier. No, he _definitely_ wanted her. With a whine of frustration she pressed her knees together and rolled onto her side. This was ridiculous. He was so close. She should just go to him. But that fear spiked in her again.

She shut her eyes. Maybe it was best not to rush into anything. They should spend more time together first. It had taken her and Nate a few weeks of dating before he’d spent the night, and they had learned a lot about each other during that time. The things they had in common. The things they didn’t. All the ways in which they were compatible, ranging from the mundane to the profound. How they liked their pancakes; favourite baseball players; what they ultimately wanted out of life. It had been clear they made a solid partnership long before they’d ended up in bed together. They had proven a good match in that respect, too.

She didn’t know if she and Arthur were compatible. Their relationship thus far didn’t give her much confidence. Half their conversations had been arguments. Their backgrounds couldn’t be more different. She literally did not belong in the same world as him. She didn’t even know how people conducted relationships in this day and age. Although in fairness, she thought, recalling his stilted proposal, Arthur didn’t seem to either.

There was the age difference. The overwhelming responsibilities they each bore. Their priorities. They shared some important goals, but after this war was over they would have little common ground. Arthur wanted his own children. Joanna’s future was with Shaun. Danse was right. She shouldn’t drag this out into something that would only hurt them both.

Her chest ached in protest. She didn’t want to end it. It didn’t matter what her common sense told her: that it was doomed; that it was infatuation at best; that she was a fool to even consider it when she was still half-buried in grief. Arthur was the only thing she had wanted for herself since she had staggered from the cryopod into this miserable world. That desire was a bright, hot flame in the midst of the cold, and she was too stubborn to blow it out. She supposed they had that much in common. Arthur had refused to extinguish the flame he held for her, despite his better judgement.

The longing surged in her. It was like a cord that tugged her up to her feet and over to the door. The other end of that cord was tied to Arthur, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She opened the door, and there he stood. He was facing the opposite wall, one hand on his hip as the other dragged through his hair. His feet were bare on the stone floor. He turned the moment he heard her. A long moment passed as they stared at each other across the threshold.

He tried to speak, but didn’t get past a mumbled, “I—”

It hadn’t occurred to her that he would be just as nervous as she was. The realisation took the sharp edges off her anxiety, leaving only the churn of anticipation. She wondered how long he’d been standing there. She opened the door wider and stepped back into the room. She stopped when her ass hit the edge of the desk. Arthur held her gaze as he followed her inside.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” she said softly.

“I wasn’t sure. If I was welcome.”

She shook her head. “Then you’re an idiot.”

“You called me _Elder_ ,” he replied. “I thought... You’d changed your mind.”

Of course he did. _Shit_. “I was just being—I don’t know. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He closed the door quietly behind him. “That’s not who I want to be when I’m with you.”

Joanna leaned against her desk, gripping the edges. “I don’t want you to either,” she said.

No titles. No responsibilities. No past; no future. Just Arthur and Joanna. It was too simple; too good to be true. Even now she was waiting for the interruption. The gut-punch. For the knock on the door, for a siren to wail, for someone to burst in and announce they were under attack. That was the life of the Elder and the General. But beyond the sweet strains from the radio and a far-off rumble of thunder, all was quiet. Just the two of them, alone in this room.

Arthur’s eyes trailed over her, and suddenly she felt sick with self-consciousness. She had never been a vain woman, but for one long, panicky moment all she could think of were the imperfections hidden under her clothes. The stretch marks on her belly and bruising down her right side. The dry patches on her arms where blisters were still healing. The hair on her legs and under her arms. The wasteland had stripped away much of the feminine fleshiness that had lingered after Shaun was born. Nate had loved those curves. Perhaps Arthur would have, too.

She knew it was foolish to feel this way. The world had moved on; the Nuka Cola girl was a bleached-out relic of another age. Arthur wouldn’t expect Joanna to look like a porcelain doll, and he wouldn’t care when she didn’t. Even so, her heart was in her mouth as he crossed the floor to stand in front of her.

“I’m so nervous,” she confessed. The words rushed out in a breathless laugh.

He touched her face gently and nodded. He was too. She pressed her lips to the heel of his palm, and then he was ducking his head to kiss her, tentatively, as though he still needed permission. She took hold of his head and pulled him firmly against her, parting her lips to dip her tongue into his mouth. Her hands trailed down his arms, pausing to dig fingers into the taut flesh of his biceps, then she reached for his waist and tugged at the hem of his shirt.

“Take this off,” she breathed into the space between them.

After a moment he complied. He tucked his thumbs into the back of his collar and pulled the t-shirt over his head. His holotags caught in the neckline and tumbled against his chest as he yanked the shirt down his arms. He balled it up and threw it to one side, eyes on Joanna.

Her hands were on him before the shirt hit the floor, clawing her fingers through the dark hair on his chest. Scars marked his body, old burns and lacerations and a deep gouge on his right pectoral. He may spend most of his hours behind his desk or on the command deck, but that had not always been the case. Joanna vowed to kiss every last scar before the night was over. She started with his face, turning his jaw so she could kiss his marred cheek, then worked her way down his neck. She tasted salt and smoke in the hollow of his throat. Arthur shivered as her hands trailed over his skin, and after a moment he snatched her wrists loosely.

“Slowly,” he rasped.

Joanna nodded. She wondered how long it was since he’d been touched. He released her and she kept going, happy to take her time exploring him inch by inch. She kissed his throat and collarbone as her fingers crawled down his belly, playing with the trail of hair that marked an irresistible path toward his belt. When she reached his waistband she heard his breath catch again before he tilted her face up to kiss her. He grasped her face between his hands and kissed her harder than ever, beard scraping at her face as he pressed her back until his thighs were crushing hers against the desk. When he realised he was trapping her, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the edge. The flash of pain in her side was outweighed by the thrill.

Heat flared between her legs and in her chest as he lowered his hands to the buttons on her shirt. By the time the shirt hung open she was panting. Her nipples stood hard under the ragged lace of her bra. Arthur pushed the shirt off her shoulders, and she tore her hands away from him long enough to free her arms. His eyes trailed over her skin, mesmerised. He traced her bruised ribs with rough fingertips and caressed the soft juncture of her elbow. She couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes, not quite concern, but perhaps... wonder? His eyes flashed back up to hers, and— _oh_. Yes. There was pure fire behind the blue.

When he slid the bra straps down off her shoulders, she ground her ass against the desk and clamped her lower lip between her teeth to keep the desperate whine inside. He didn’t even bother trying to unfasten her bra, he just shoved it all the way down to her waist. He smoothed both hands over her bare breasts and a shockwave went through her. The moan escaped her lips and became a breathless whimper as he bowed his head to kiss between her breasts, just below where her own holotags lay. His beard rasping against her soft skin threatened to overload her nerve endings. She was dizzy, struggling to breathe normally.

“Stop,” she gasped. She shook her head to clear it. Arthur pulled back to watch her, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Slowly,” she said.

She took his face in her hands and he smiled. He kissed her lips once and then withdrew. He stood between her parted thighs and lifted her left leg. He tugged off her boot and let it drop to the floor with a thump before turning his attention to her right leg. Joanna ran her bare feet up the backs of his legs and hooked her heels under his ass to pull him tight against her. The position made her hip throb with pain, but the way Arthur twisted his hand into her hair and devoured her mouth made it worth every twinge. His other hand cupped her breast and stroked gently. His thumb flicked over her nipple, and it was so good she wanted to scream. She ran both hands down his back and onto the delicious curve of his ass, and squeezed, hard. She wasn’t sure which one of them moaned louder. Their tongues were too tangled up to tell. He yanked her forward by her hips so they were crushed together even more lewdly, and Joanna whimpered and bit his lip as she felt how hard he was for her. She dug in her heels again to push them together and started yanking inexpertly at his belt. Arthur broke away with a gasp. He pulled back a little, eyes squeezed tight. God, they were going to kill each other. They were both touch-starved, hopelessly over-sensitised, and desperately horny. It made for volatile chemistry.

Arthur lifted her effortlessly from the desk and carried her to the bed. He got onto the mattress on his knees and laid her down on her back. It was easier like this for her to wrap her legs around him, and she pulled him in as tight as she could, bucking her hips against him. He practically growled as he prised her knees away so he could sit back on his heels. Joanna’s stomach flipped as he pulled at the fastening on her worn leather pants. She lifted her ass so he could peel them off, her underwear dragging down with them, and she watched the heat in his eyes become searing as he stripped her naked. 

Despite the battered state her body was in, Arthur looked at her as though he had never seen anything so beautiful. He took a moment to tug at the bra still wrapped around her waist, frowning a little as he figured out how to unfasten the clasp. It joined her discarded leathers on the floor. He sat back and ran both hands down her thighs. Every part of her burned as he nudged her knees apart. He ran his fingertips lightly between her legs and she rolled her head back, shaking beneath him. Arthur’s groan when he felt how wet she was only made the other sensations even more intense.

When he lowered his head to taste her, Joanna lost it. She had to turn her face into the pillow and bite down to keep from crying out. His beard prickled her thighs as he dipped his tongue between her folds. Her trembling hips threatened to dislodge him when his tongue found her clit, and he gripped her ass to hold her still. Joanna spilled pleading curses into the pillow. Her body was wound too tight. There was more than her hypersensitive state to blame; Arthur had done this before. Maybe she would ask him about it when she wasn’t so preoccupied with getting him to fuck her brains out.

Okay, to hell with slowly. She needed him inside her now. She didn’t care if it was over in thirty seconds. It was pretty obvious they both had more than one round in them tonight. If she survived that long.

“Stop,” she breathed, tangling her fingers in his hair. “I need you up here.”

He pressed a kiss to her mons and sat up, wiping his mouth as he ran his gaze up her writhing body.

“Get your damn pants off,” she whined, but he was already finishing the job she’d started on his belt.

Joanna watched as Arthur pushed his fatigues over his hips. She caught a glimpse of grey Brotherhood underwear, and then that was shoved down too. His cock strained thick and proud between his spectacular thighs, flushed dark with blood. She stared, fingers twitching. She really, _really_ did not want this night to end.

He braced one hand by her side and gripped himself with the other. Joanna spread her legs wider.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Arthur gasped as he nudged the tip of his cock against her.

Joanna had never heard him curse before, and the _fuck_ on his lips was so sinfully sexy that he had her on the brink before he’d even started to push inside. When he did, the tension began to coil in her dizzyingly fast. _No, not yet_ , she pleaded silently. Otherwise this would be over before it began. She curled her fingers in the yao guai fur covering her bed and fought her orgasm back. She willed her body to relax. It had been a long time, and she was tight. Arthur pushed inside her slowly and she clawed blindly at his chest and shoulders.

He lowered his head with a groan as he bottomed out. The broad hand squeezing her thigh hard enough to leave marks confirmed that he was as close as she was. He kissed a shaky line across her chest as he waited to come back from the edge. She stroked the short hair at the back of his head. When he raised his head to kiss her, her own salty taste was on his lips.

He looked down at her, and his expression was... beautiful. _He_ was beautiful. Joanna was so used to seeing a frown on his face that even when she’d imagined them together like this—which she had, more often than she had even admitted to herself—he was still frowning. But there was no trace of it now. His lips were parted and his eyes big and clear, swallowing her up. In a moment of absurd clarity she thought, _He loves me_. It was at once preposterous and irrefutable. He _couldn’t_ love her. And yet.

She shoved the thought away beneath the sensations of his body against hers. Her mind couldn’t be trusted when it was addled by hormones on top of everything else. She focused on what she could see and feel and taste. She tipped her hips to encourage him. He started slowly, and soon they were both lost in the sweet back-and-forth drag as he rocked in and out of her. Arthur did his best to control his pace, pushing a little farther on every thrust, stroking her deeper and deeper inside. It was easy to let the rest of the world fall away when she had that heavenly friction pushing her higher and higher. Like a firework.

And like a firework, there were stars when she exploded. It didn’t take long. Her body snapped into a taut arch, back lifting off the mattress as she came. Arthur growled another curse as she clamped tight around him, the last of his control lost. Somehow he had the presence of mind to pull out as she was still writhing in the grip of her orgasm, and through her haze she heard his long groan as he came against the bed.

Joanna melted back into the pillows as the tension left her limbs. Only now did she notice that the radio was still on. ‘Mars’ from Holst’s _Planets_ was playing, and she smiled. How suitably dramatic for their first time. Her eyes closed and she reached for Arthur, still needing his touch. His holotags dangled warm against her breast when he leaned in for a kiss. His chest hair was damp with sweat under her fingers. She looked up into his blue eyes.

“Did you...?”

Joanna nodded. She watched the smile spread across his face, and said, “Don’t get too cocky. I’ll make you work harder for it next time.”

 _Next time_ proved to be about eight minutes later.

*

Joanna awoke some time after round two. She couldn’t tell if minutes or hours had passed. She turned over to watch Arthur dozing at her side, his body still kicking out heat. It was a luxury just to look at him. All this time she had been rationing her glances at him, afraid to stare for fear of impropriety. Now he was naked in her bed she took the opportunity to watch him unashamedly. She couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of it. He had done his best to wear them both out, but she still wanted to kiss him from head to toe.

But first she had to pee, and on this occasion the bed pan tucked under her bunk was most definitely not an option. She got up and tugged on her pants, boots and Arthur’s shirt. She shrugged her coat on over the top. It was cold in the rickety outhouses. On a whim she grabbed the Pip-boy from her desk, and another item from the drawer. She closed the door softly behind her and made her way up to the yard.

The outhouses were propped against the southern wall near the external stairs. One thing she adored about the Prydwen was its plumbing. No such luxury for the residents of the Castle. A bench with a hole in it and a bucket of sawdust was the best they had for now. Sheets of ancient newsprint chopped into a more user-friendly size hung from a hook on the wall. Someone had scrawled _‘One shit, one sheet’_ and an angry face above it.

Back outside, she looked up at the sky. The storm had passed. Despite her lure of Arthur in her bed, she headed up onto the walls to clear her head for a few minutes.

It was too dark to see the sea, but she listened to the waves break on the rocks below. She sat on the low ledge around the space where the next artillery piece would be installed. Her body ached from battle and sex. She breathed in the smell of salt, and thought of Nate.

She pulled the envelope from her pocket and tore open the flap. The holotape sat cool in her hand for a moment before she slotted it into the Pip-boy on her arm. This was what she had really come up here to do, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. To put her feelings into perspective, maybe. Or perhaps it was a way to punish herself for giving in to Arthur. She had been waiting for the guilt to kick in since their first kiss. Perhaps the tape would jump-start it so she could at least brace against it.

She sat there for a while with her finger hovering over the _Play_ switch. The waves lapped at the shore; a guard coughed at the post above the main gate.  

The thing was, the guilt hadn’t come. Not in the tsunami she had anticipated. Something had changed inside her. She still felt Nate’s absence like an open wound. The sound of his voice would make her weep, if she could only bring herself to press that button. But the shape of her grief had shifted. She hadn’t lied to Arthur when she said her desire for him made her feel like an adulteress. She had felt that way before, so she’d assumed she still would if she yielded to him. But she didn’t. Not since coming back from the Glowing Sea. She closed her eyes and pictured Nate’s dark hand reaching out for hers. How close she had been to joining him before Danse had stopped her. And Arthur, carrying her away from death back into life.

And that was the cold, cruel fact of it. She was alive. Nate was dead. It was the simplest thing in the world. Something she had, of course, known all along, but there was a difference between knowing something and accepting it. Truly believing it. A part of her had continued to hope that if she focused everything on rescuing Shaun that she could somehow win back all that had been lost. But she never could. Nate was gone, and she had to find her son so they could move forward, not back.

Joanna wiped her eyes and ejected the tape again, returning it and Shaun’s letter to her pocket. She fiddled aimlessly with her Pip-boy radio. In a minute she would get up, go back to her quarters, and wake Arthur with a kiss. Slide her arms around his warm body and find comfort there. And tomorrow they would get up and decide how to go about breaching the Institute. She just needed one more minute alone.

Her Pip-boy beeped.

She frowned at it, and it beeped again.

Her heart stopped.

She was on her feet in a second, running for the guard post. Three figures were silhouetted in the torch light. She was halfway there when the first guard crumpled. The second fell no more than a second later.

“No!” Joanna cried out. Her voice echoed around the Castle’s five walls.

The killer looked at her. He was no more than a shadow with the torches at his back, but her blood chilled at the sight of him.

She heard shouts below as the first Minutemen responded to her cry. Her heart lurched against her ribs in terror. She had just watched this man— _not a man, a machine_ —kill two guards with little more than a flick of his wrist. She thought of Knight Adams, tossed effortlessly from a building, and the squad members she had lost. All the Courser had to do was call in back-up, and the Castle would be wiped out.

Preston and Danse were down there.

Arthur was down there.

“Stop!” she called. She held her hands up beside her head and staggered towards the assassin on legs like lead. “Please, whatever you’re here to do—Just stop.” She flicked a glance down to the yard, just long enough to see the first figures spilling from the eastern barracks. She turned back to the Courser. “My name is Joanna Mayes. I’m the General of the Minutemen.”

“I know who you are,” he said. His voice was surprisingly melodic. It would have been pleasant if not for the fact he could execute her in a heartbeat.

“Please. Don’t hurt anyone else.” Her voice was shaking. “I’ll give myself up without a fight.”  

The man glanced off to one side as though speaking to someone else. “That was not my order.”

“Then request new orders,” she pleaded. She stepped closer. “Take me with you, right now. I know you can do that. I’m obviously no threat to the Institute, not on my own. _Please_. My son is there. He was taken. All I want is to see him again.” She grasped around desperately for some kind of leverage. Her whirling thoughts snagged on what Virgil had told her. “Take me to see Father.”

Shouts bounced back and forth across the yard. The Minutemen had spotted her and the Courser up on the wall, and feet pounded up the metal stairs opposite. It was too dark for her to make them out, but a sudden blast of red fire singed her retinas. Laser fire.

“Don’t shoot!” she yelled. She saw the Courser reach for his weapon, and she stepped in front of him on instinct. “Hold your fire!”

“General!”

She looked down toward the source of the voice and saw Preston, gazing up from the yard in horror above the barrel of his musket. Danse was at his side, rifle raised and ready. Ronnie Shaw’s voice cut through the night like a hacksaw, bellowing orders left and right.

Behind Joanna, the Courser spoke in low tones as though to himself. She couldn’t make out his words amidst the chaos.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

Joanna turned as he walked towards her. It took everything she had not to flinch. Up close she could see that his skin was dark, features well-defined. Handsome, even. With a lurch she realised she had seen his face before. In a monster’s memory. This was the Courser who had taken Shaun from Kellogg’s house in Diamond City.

“Stand next to me and hold still.” He took something from his pocket. A heavy black cuff. “I need to put this on you.” Her blood ran cold. It was a collar. She didn’t remember this from Kellogg’s memory. Her heart raced so fast she thought it would burst.

“X6-88, ready to relay with subject one-eleven.”

Cold metal slotted around her throat in the same moment that someone cried out her name below. Joanna looked down. Arthur ran across the yard from the west bastion, barefoot and shirtless. Even at this distance she could see the raw terror in his eyes. Saw his mouth shape the word _No_. Her assault rifle was in his hands.

She shook her head. There was no way to explain this to him, no time to even say goodbye, so she reached out her hand.

White light blinded her, and the Castle vanished. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand yes I really did just give you a post-coital cliffhanger. Because that's how Fancy rolls. 
> 
> In my original plan, they weren't going to have sex until post-Institute. Like, right up until I started this chapter I didn't know how far I'd let them go. It even says in my notes: "They get cockblocked by a Courser". Long story short, Jo and Max were not happy with this strategy and threatened to go on indefinite strike unless I let them bang. 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you all enjoyed it. You deserve it as much as they do! Thank you all so much for keeping me going! <3 <3 <3
> 
> EDIT: Check out [this amazing screenshot](https://midnightmooncat.tumblr.com/post/143668338187/couldnt-sleep-so-i-made-something-for) that MidnightMoonCat made to go with this chapter!!


	20. Chapter 20

For a while she was aware of nothing more than pain and blinding light as every nerve in her body fired at once. She fell to her hands and knees and vomited on the floor. Black boots moved across her field of vision as she was trying to remember her own name.

“Stand up.”

She couldn’t obey if she wanted to. She stared at her hands planted on the cold concrete. The ragged cuff of her coat, the dirt under her fingernails. The spatter of puke soaking into the ground. Every speck of dust and fibre of her clothing, every last cell in her body, had been shattered apart and beamed across the city to be knitted back together perfectly in this cavern under the ground. It was one thing to learn that teleportation was possible and another thing entirely to experience it. It was easier to believe she was just dead. Or crazy.

The Courser crouched in front of her. “It’s normal to feel disoriented after relaying the first time,” he said in that oddly pleasant tone. “It will pass quickly.”

He took Joanna by the arms and helped her to her feet where she swayed for a moment until she could stand unassisted. She took a few seconds to recall how to breathe, and looked around at the space she was standing in. A circular chamber with dark walls and bright lights. The light pulsed as she turned slowly, making her head pound even harder. Tight bundles of red and black wires and huge lenses that stared in at her like unblinking, alien eyes reminded her that she was standing inside a machine. It was unlike anything she had seen before.

At some point the Courser had slipped on a pair of black sunglasses. He was like a statue carved from jet in this glaring space. He reached for her neck and she flinched before remembering the collar around her throat. He unlatched it with a sharp click. Joanna had hardly welcomed being collared, but she suspected the technology inside it may be her only ticket out of this place. She watched with unease as it disappeared back into the Courser’s coat.

A doorway led into the room beyond. The courser stopped under the archway and Joanna watched as a series of violet beams lit up and ran over his body. He turned to see her still cowering in the circular chamber.

“Follow me,” he said.

“What is that thing?”

“Decontamination field,” he replied. “It’s perfectly safe.”

Joanna stepped forward hesitantly. She supposed it couldn’t be any more hazardous than what she’d just gone through. The exposed parts of her skin prickled slightly with heat as the violet light skimmed over her.

The room beyond the relay chamber was empty of life. A bank of consoles stood ahead of them. More controls lined the walls, glistening with lights. Everything seemed unnaturally sterile after the dirt and smoke of the Castle. It was silent apart from a low electric hum and her own ragged breathing.

“Are we really underground?” she said. It felt more like the deck of a spaceship.

The Courser ignored her. He stood by the console and stared straight ahead. “X6-88 reporting safe delivery of subject one-eleven,” he said. “Awaiting orders.”

There was a crackle from somewhere up near the ceiling. The voice that spoke a moment later was male, with an elderly frailty to it. “Bring our visitor directly to my quarters. And use my private elevator. There’s no need to have anyone gawking at her.”

“May I make a request, sir,” the Courser replied. “My original target was spotted at the location. If I return now I may be able to complete the extraction.”

“It’s risky, now the alert’s been raised,” the speaker voice replied.

There was so much trying to filter into Joanna’s brain that the Courser’s words took a moment to sink in. “Wait, what target?” she said. “What were you there for?”

The Courser paid her no heed. “That’s not all, sir. Elder Maxson was there.”

“No,” Joanna started as dread chilled her veins.

“Was he really.” The voice had become rather frosty.

“It seems like too rare an opportunity to miss,” the Courser went on.

“No!” She yelled it this time, voice echoing off the hard walls. “I gave myself up so you wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

There was silence for a few seconds. “Our guest is right,” the speaker voice said. “She came to us in good faith. Besides, Maxson will be alerting the Brotherhood as we speak. He’ll either be gone or have heavy reinforcements on the way by the time we can send you back in there with support. No, X6, that’s quite enough for one night.”

“Yes, Father.”

Able to breathe again, Joanna followed the Courser down the stairs ahead and into another deserted room. A transparent cylinder stood in the centre like a giant glass beaker. The curved walls split open as they approached and the Courser gestured for her to step inside. Joanna leaned against the clear wall and watched the man opposite her as they started to descend. She didn’t like not being able to see his eyes.

“Who was your target?”

She assumed he was looking at her from behind the black lenses, but his expression didn’t flicker. “I’m not at liberty to share that information.”

“At least tell me why you murdered my guards. Is there a synth at the Castle?” The thought of a machine masquerading as a human right under her nose was deeply unsettling. “That’s what you do, right? The Coursers. You hunt down missing synths.”

“Please, save your questions,” the speaker voice said from the ceiling. Fuck, that was creepy. “You must have a great many, and I’ll do my best to answer them. For now, please, take a look around you. I dare say you’ve been fed all kinds of misinformation on the surface about who we are, and what we do here. But this is the reality of the Institute.”

Joanna looked out as they descended from darkness into a vast open space. The ceiling was lit with a thousand artificial stars, just bright enough that she could make out the immense vault below. Well-lit walkways connected four tall structures around the edge of the space. Even at this hour of the night, people dressed in stark white uniforms walked the tube-like corridors.

She didn’t know what she’d expected the Institute to be like. A larger version of a Vault-Tec complex, perhaps, with robot soldiers marching the halls. But the reality was... staggering. Even in her own time, it would have been considered an impressive feat of architecture, but after months spent in crumbling shacks that could barely withstand wind and rain, the structure around her seemed impossibly perfect. This was what she had once imagined the future to look like. Not the ravaged wasteland above their heads.

“How many people live here?” she asked.

“Approaching three hundred,” the disembodied voice told her. “The Institute families go back many generations.”

“Children?” Joanna’s breath caught on the word. It took all she had not to beg him to tell her about Shaun. Better to bide her time. She wanted to look the stranger in the eye when she asked him.

“Of course.”

The wasteland had so few children. She didn’t know all the reasons why, but she had gathered from speaking with settlers that widespread infertility and complications during pregnancy were largely to blame. Shortage of supplies and poor sanitation had taken a toll in many areas. Infant mortality was also high thanks to the numerous perils of the environment. War. Famine. Pestilence. None were kind to the young and fragile, and all invited death.

The Institute, on the other hand, had guarded well against it. Joanna saw a woman sitting on a balcony clutching a tiny baby in her arms, and her heart throbbed in envy. She scanned every floor as they passed, praying for a glimpse of a small frame, dark skin and dark hair. Had Shaun been taken in by one of these families? If so, what the hell had he been doing living with Kellogg?

The elevator reached the bottom of the tube. Joanna was astonished to see grassy lawns and even young trees in full leaf, the lush green like a balm to her eyes. It had been so long. It was gone again too soon as they descended into the darkness beyond.

At last the elevator slowed and stopped, and the walls uncurled around them. The Courser stalked ahead of Joanna along an empty hallway. A distant, continuous mechanical whirr and hum sounded all around them from whatever machinery lay deep inside the clean grey walls, pumping and churning to keep the Institute alive. She could feel its pulse through her boots as she followed the Courser to another, smaller elevator. They pressed in shoulder to shoulder as it carried them up to another featureless corridor. They reached a door, and the Courser stopped and looked up at a small camera mounted above it. Joanna had seen the electronic eyes positioned along their way, keeping silent watch of their progress.

The door slid open, and she followed the hunter inside to meet his maker.

The first room they entered was empty. In one corner was a sealed-off area with a bed and minimal furniture behind a glass wall. It put Joanna in mind of an observation chamber, or a prison cell. She hoped she wasn’t destined for it.

The Courser stopped beside the next doorway, arms behind his back. Joanna was meant to go on alone from this point. She stepped into the next room, and came face to face at last with her enemy.

The man who stood before her was elderly, his hair and beard more grey than black, still dressed in crisp cotton pyjamas and robe. Joanna’s arrival had interrupted his sleep. He leaned on a cane for support as he walked towards her. He was thin under his clothes. The sort of loose-skinned scrawniness that suggested a spell of ill health.

This was not the arch-nemesis she had been expecting. And yet, despite his fragile state, there was something intimidating about him.

“Welcome,” he said, laying one hand over the other on the head of his cane. He attempted a smile, but it was tight and forced. “How should I address you, I wonder? General? Knight?” After a pause, he added, “Mrs. Mayes?”

Joanna swallowed hard. “General is fine.” The man watched her for a moment before nodding.

“You obviously know more about me than I do about you,” she said. She glanced around the room. The lighting was softer than in the hallways outside. Bookshelves lined one wall; two easy chairs and a low table stood nearby. Across the room was a desk with a terminal, microscope and other equipment. It appeared to be part living quarters, part laboratory. Stairs led up to another floor. “Are you Father?”

“I am. I’m the Director of the Institute. Tell me, what do you think of it so far?”

“It’s—” She looked into his face. There was something disconcertingly familiar about him. “It’s extraordinary.”

He didn’t smile, but he seemed pleased by her answer. “I can’t imagine what it feels like to be in a place like this after the hell of the surface.”

Joanna had nothing to say to that. He was right; he really couldn’t imagine how she felt. She looked closer at his features. The broad nose and the shape of his mouth. She tried to picture him without the beard.

“I believe you gave yourself up,” he said. “May I ask why?”

“Your Courser killed two of my men. I didn’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“So you’re here to protect them?”

“That’s one reason. I want you to promise you won’t harm my people as long as you have me here.”

The statement sounded much bolder than she felt. She was powerless down here and she knew it. Trapped like a bug in a jar. Father could snap his fingers and have her pinned and dissected if he saw fit.

“And who are your people, exactly?” Father asked. His tone was clipped and abrupt. “The Minutemen? Or the Brotherhood of Steel?”

“Both,” she admitted.

He watched her coldly for a moment. “What is your relationship with Arthur Maxson?”

_None of your damn business_ , Joanna wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. She pictured Arthur at the door of her quarters. Only hours ago, but already so far away. His kisses. His body rocking against hers. She could still feel him inside her. It made her ache to think of him. “He’s the leader of the Brotherhood,” she said. “I’ve been working with him.”

Father stepped closer. Joanna froze as he leaned in towards her until his face was an inch from her ear. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He was _sniffing_ her. Her stomach tightened in anger and revulsion. She fought the instinct to recoil. After a moment he straightened and walked away. He lowered himself into one of the easy chairs. She could tell from the tight line of his lips that he was in pain.

“Tell me, what were the two of you _working on_ at the Castle tonight?”

“I’m not answering any of your questions until you answer mine,” Joanna snapped. “You kidnapped my son. Where is he?”

“Oh, so you haven’t forgotten him entirely,” Father replied, leaning back into his chair.  

She stared back, dumbfounded. “What?”

“You’ve been keeping yourself so busy with your _people_ , I wasn’t sure you still cared about finding him.”

Her hands itched to wrap around his wrinkled throat and crush the breath from him. “You son of a bitch,” she spat. “How dare you even suggest that I could forget my son. You, the one who stole him from me. You murdered my husband. You have no idea of the lengths I have gone to. _Where is he?_ ”

“Sit with me,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his.

Fury pulsed in her temples, but there was nowhere else she could go. She walked toward him stiffly and sat down.

Father sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“How what was supposed to be?”

“This... reunion.”

Joanna glared at him. “What are you talking about?” She thought of the vault, the day Nate died. The faceless Institute scientists. “Were you there? When Shaun was taken?”

He peered at her and tilted his head. “You really don’t recognise me?”

She did and she didn’t. It had dawned on her at last who he reminded her of, though the differences were as stark as the similarities. The man he resembled had lived and died two centuries ago. He’d been broader than the one before her now, big-shouldered and round-bellied, with lines on his face earned from smiling rather than frowning. Skin a shade darker. That man had made Joanna laugh and cry at the same time with the speech he gave at her wedding. He had laughed and cried himself when Nate had announced Joanna’s pregnancy. Neville Mayes, her father-in-law.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

This man’s smile was a pale shadow of Neville’s. “I’m your son,” he said. “I’m Shaun.”

Time ground to a halt. Even Joanna’s heart seemed to stop. Every desperate step she had taken from the moment she tumbled from her frozen throne had led her to... this? A sick joke? Father watched her as she blinked back at him.

“My son... is a child,” she said.

“Your son was taken as a child,” he corrected her. “I grew up within these walls, and I became a man. I grew old.”

The urge to strangle him returned. “No. You’re lying. I saw the man that took him. I saw that man again just a couple of months ago. He hadn’t aged a day.”

“Our friend Kellogg,” he replied grimly. “You must have noticed how strong he was, before you killed him. He was no ordinary man. His body was heavily augmented, and his lifespan extended far beyond that of a regular human.”

“That’s a convenient explanation,” she replied, but even as she said it she was recalling the Institute hardware she and Nick had fished out of Kellogg’s head. These people built replica humans. It wasn’t that much of a leap. But she couldn’t believe what he was saying. Wouldn’t.

“Kellogg was sent to retrieve me sixty years ago,” Father told her.

Lying. He had to be lying. “I know about the boy in Diamond City. The one living with Kellogg.”

Father nodded slightly. “X6-88,” he called.

“Sir,” the Courser’s voice said from the doorway.

“Go to Advanced Systems. They should have him up and ready by now.”

“Of course, sir.”

Joanna and the old man watched one another across the table. She couldn’t fathom what he expected to gain from this absurd charade.  

“I realise this is a lot to take in,” he said. “All this time you’ve been looking for a young boy. A helpless victim. You’ve been encouraged to think of the Institute as your enemy, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. The people on the surface, your supposed friends— _they_ are the ones you need to be wary of. They would stand in the way of all the progress we are making. It’s unfortunate that you allowed yourself to be distracted by them for so long. But it was necessary to wait and let you find us—find _me_ —on your own. I needed to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” she demanded. “What the hell is this? Some sort of sick experiment? My life, my family. Everything I’ve been living for—Is this what you do? Snatch people so you can watch their loved ones drive themselves insane trying to find them?”

“You’re being melodramatic. The people we bring here... It’s all for the greater good. You don’t believe me now, but you will. They are tiny sacrifices in the grand scheme of things. You, on the other hand, have a much greater part to play.” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I’m rambling. What matters is that you’re here now. At long last.”

At that moment there was a faint hiss of doors sliding open in the room behind Joanna. She turned to see the Courser, so forbidding in his black uniform and sunglasses, leading a child by the hand. The boy rubbed at one sleepy eye and peered curiously at Joanna. She had last seen him in Kellogg’s memory, playing with toys on the floor of a Diamond City room. She choked on a sob as she leapt to her feet.

“Shaun?” she gasped. She stumbled over to the boy and dropped to her knees in front of him. “God, Shaun, is it you?”

“Who are you?” he said, then glanced at the man behind her. “I’m still tired, Father.”

“Nonsense. You’ve had more than enough sleep. Be polite and welcome our guest.”

He scanned Joanna’s face doubtfully. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied. Her hands hovered above her lap. She longed to touch his face, but she was wary of frightening him. “My name is Joanna. I’ve been looking for you. For a very long time.”

“Why?” the boy said. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He was scared. “Father? I don’t want to go away. Please don’t make me.”

“Calm down, Shaun,” Father chided.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Joanna said. Her vision started to blur. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

“I want to go back to bed,” the child whined.

Father sighed. “My apologies,” he said. “Normally his behaviour is more acceptable than this. Perhaps we’ll try this again another day. S9-23, Recall Code Cirrus.”

The moment the last word left Father’s lips, Shaun’s head lolled down on his shoulders and his upper body sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Joanna made a strangled sound of distress and reached for him. She tilted his face gently in her hands. The dark eyes were open, but sightless and dull.

“What have you done?” she choked.

“He’s a synth,” Father said smoothly from the comfort of his chair. “A perfect replica of myself at ten years old. Quite remarkable, isn’t it?”

Joanna lifted one of the boy’s limp hands in her own. It was so perfect. Small and warm. She traced the lines on his soft palm. “He’s... not real?”

“He’s not your son. I am.” There was a creak followed by a soft scuffing sound as he got to his feet. “Do you believe me now, Mother?”

A bony hand touched her shoulder. Joanna flinched.

“Was he just bait?” she whispered.

“That wasn’t the only reason we created him. But he proved helpful in setting you on the right track.”

Joanna let the boy’s hand drop to his side and squeezed her eyes closed. She couldn’t bear to look at his dead eyes any longer. “How long did you know I was up there? How long have you known I was still alive?”

“That’s not important now—”

“Yes it is,” she snarled. “How long?”

Father sighed and withdrew his hand. “I found out around the time I was named Director.”

“When?”

“I was a little older than you are now.”

“Thirty years?” Joanna gasped. A hard lump had formed in her throat and she thought she may throw up again. “You left me frozen for _thirty fucking years_?” She looked up at her son for the first time. Her baby had left her arms at six months old. Now he was old enough to be her father, and she didn’t know him at all.

“Do you have any idea the things I’ve done to find you?” Her voice was shaking so hard she could barely get the words out. “I’ve killed. I’ve almost been killed. I’ve faced horrors you can’t imagine. And you left me there. You could have come for me at any time, but you _left me_.” She felt the first burning tears spill over her cheeks.

The man above her started to speak, but Joanna would hear no more. She wrapped her trembling arms around her stomach and curled in on herself until her forehead touched the cold ground. She had lost everything. Nate. Shaun. Her whole world. She had nowhere left to fall.

Above her, Father spoke quietly to his Courser. Joanna did not resist when the synth lifted her in his arms and carried her from the room. She no longer cared where he was taking her. Something in her had shut down the moment the synth boy had.

Let them cut out her heart if they had a use for it. She no longer did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, _really_ don't like Shaun. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience! And welcome to everyone who's discovered this story recently. As always, a million thanks for the feedback and support. Your comments are the highlights of my week. 
> 
> The next part I write may be an alternate POV (similar to [Diagnosis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6007689)), so I will post it under a different title. If you are only subscribed to this story you won't get a notification so it might be worth following my author account if you want an alert. Also I'll link to anything new I write on my [Tumblr](http://fancyladssnacks.tumblr.com/) :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note before we begin: first of all, my apologies for the long delay. I've been ill for a while and wasn't as able to write as usual. To make up for it, this is the first of TWO chapters that will be posted today! (In other words, this chapter mutated into a behemoth and I decided to split it in two.)   
> Second, I know I said I'd write another alternate POV to show what's going on back at the Castle. That's still in the works, but I ended up doing this first. Keep an eye out for it on my author page.   
> Third, thank you all so much for being awesome and wonderful and sticking with me! I hope you enjoy the update. :D

The darkness hummed like a refrigerator. Joanna woke slowly, awareness seeping into her like a chill. Her head throbbed as she shifted in the bed. A hangover from crying until her tears had run out. She could remember little more than being curled around herself in the dark, rocking in the grip of her misery. At some point exhaustion had claimed her and she’d slept for an unknown length of time, though her dreams were streaked through with grief and fear.

Now she only felt empty. Defeated.

She wrapped her hands around her splitting head and rolled onto her side. Someone would be sure to come and rouse her eventually, but until they did, she would lie here in cool darkness. There was nothing left to do. She was sunk in the bottom of a well with no warmth and no light. The only way out was for someone to throw down a rope and haul her out, and that wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t even sure if she cared. She would just as gladly drown.

She slept for a time, fading in and out between a half-doze and dreams.

When she woke again, the pain in her head had dulled to an ache. Something hard was digging into her chest. She reached a hand into the collar of her shirt and pulled, and her holotags emerged with a faint _clack_. Their dim blue glow lit her palm. She stared at them for a while in the dark. What an unbelievable journey she had taken to get here. She had become a soldier. She was a _Knight_. For the longest time it had been Nate’s ring, nestled beside the tags on their chain, which held all the significance. Its worth had not diminished, but it was the tags themselves that she found herself running fingertips over now. The hard bumps where her name and ID number were stamped. It was too dark to make them out, but she knew them by heart:

_MAYES, J.  
_ _MY-778K_

Her stomach twisted. She dragged herself upright and started to fumble around for a lamp or light switch, but before she could find one a strip of lights above the bed came on automatically, starting low and slowly brightening to help her eyes adjust.

She looked around the room she was in. It didn’t appear to be a cell, although it was far from cosy. Like the other parts of the Institute she had seen, it was white and sterile. There was a cabinet beside the narrow bed, and beyond that a partition separating the bedroom area from the rest of the small apartment. There were no windows that she could see, and even if there had been, there was no natural light down here to indicate the time of day.

A table and two chairs stood opposite. A spiky green aloe in a yellow planter had been placed on the table in a jarring attempt at homeliness, like flowers in a hospital. Joanna’s boots were tucked neatly under a chair and her coat and leather trousers were folded on the seat. Her Pip-boy sat on top of the pile. She hadn’t been in any state to remove them herself. She pictured the Courser stripping her, and shuddered.

She looked down at herself, at the dark green t-shirt that hung loosely from her frame. It was Arthur’s. She pictured him somewhere far up above, wondering what was happening to her. She bunched up the fabric and held it to her face, breathing in his scent deeply. She thought of his touch. His kisses. The look in his eyes that was only for her. Pain pierced her through the numbness and her eyes, already swollen and sore, stung with tears again.

She leaned on her knees and looked from her holotags to the faded blue of her Minutemen coat folded on the chair. She was a Knight. She was a _General_. She would be the first to admit that she had taken those responsibilities too lightly to begin with, but they weighed heavy on her now. Regardless of whether her journey ended here or not, the Institute meant harm to the people who relied on her. People she cared about. If she let herself drown, their lives would be on her.

And so she hauled her legs out of bed and put her feet on the floor, her first step in climbing out of the well.

*

The synth at her side was a pretty girl with tidy features and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had introduced herself by her designation when she came to escort Joanna to Shaun’s quarters, but Joanna had already forgotten it. K-something. A deliberately inhuman string of numbers.

Joanna had been astonished to discover when checking her Pip-boy earlier that she had slept for over twenty-four hours, and it was now the following morning. Shaun had requested her presence for breakfast. She could hardly refuse him.

By day, the artificial sky lit the Institute as bright as the sun. Running water sparkled far below under a transparent floor, and the grass glowed a tempting green. Joanna cast glances at her escort as they walked the covered bridge between the buildings. If not for the lack of a real name, she would never have known the girl wasn’t as human as she was. It was incredible to think she had been manufactured in a lab. Every detail was perfect down to the soft curl of eyelashes and freckled nose. It was only the girl’s manner that set her apart. The bowing head, the quiet subservience. Her disposition was too bland to leave any impression of personality. It was unsettling, but Joanna was also grateful to have unchallenging company. Her encounter with her son was sure to be the opposite.

There were more people around today. Everyone wore variations on the same crisp white uniform, with stitched emblems on the breast and different coloured accents on the sleeves. Joanna was dressed the same, though it didn’t keep people from staring at her as she passed. In a community of only three hundred, a newcomer did not go unnoticed.

The synth nodded demurely to each person they passed, sometimes adding a hushed _Sir_ or _Ma’am_. It didn’t take long for Joanna to notice that some of them wore a simpler style of uniform; the ones who didn’t get a _Sir_ or _Ma’am_. Joanna assumed that they were the synths. They were otherwise indistinguishable from the other men and women walking around.

They descended a curved flight of stairs and arrived at Shaun’s quarters. The synth spoke into a panel beside the door. 

“K4-12 escorting your guest, Father.”

The door slid open silently, and K4 turned to Joanna to nod and smile her blank smile. Joanna swallowed hard, and entered alone.

The room looked different from the last time she was here. The opposite wall was gone, some kind of screen that had been pulled back, and now the space opened onto a balcony area overlooking the lawns and trees below. Shaun sat in a chair looking out across the open space. There were old-fashioned cups and a teapot on the table beside him. An empty chair awaited Joanna.

She stood for a moment watching the back of Shaun’s head, wondering what was going on inside it. What he had planned for her and for the world outside. She steeled herself. 

“Shaun,” she said as she stepped closer.

He turned to her and smiled. “Good morning, Mother.” He gestured to the other chair. “Please, join me.”

She settled beside the table.

“Were you comfortable?” he asked.

“Very comfortable, thank you.”

“I understand those quarters are rather small, but it was the best I could provide at such short notice. I’ll look into finding you something bigger.”

So he did plan for her to be here a while. “Please, there’s no need. Compared to what I’ve been used to for the last few months, clean sheets and hot water are quite the luxury.”

Shaun nodded. “Clean clothes, too.”

Joanna nodded stiffly. It had pained her to put on the featureless outfit the synth had brought for her. She had stowed Arthur’s shirt and her other items, including her Pip-boy, in the bottom drawer beside her bed, praying that no one would try to dispose of them. Her holotags were still on, hidden under layers of starched white.

Shaun poured dark tea into a cup. The china was old; a pre-war set. Joanna’s grandmother had owned something similar. It sat incongruously against the slickly modern backdrop.

“Breakfast will be along in a few minutes,” Shaun said. He set down the teapot and slid the cup and saucer across to her. “You must be hungry.”

“Yes,” Joanna replied. “I can’t believe I was out for such a long time.”

“Yes. Well. I had X6 give you something to help you sleep.”

Joanna’s hands froze as she lifted her teacup. “He _drugged_ me?”

“You were hysterical,” Shaun reasoned. “And clearly exhausted. I wanted to ensure you got the rest you needed.”

Joanna looked away and held her breath to keep from snapping at him. “Exhaustion wasn’t the problem,” she said. “Last night I learned that I have missed most of my son’s life. It won’t be easy to accept that I’ve lost all that time with you.”

“We have time now,” he said, trying to reassure her with a smile.

_Do we?_ she thought, looking him over. In addition to having lost weight, there were other warning signs. His reliance on a cane. The small dressing on the back of his hand, perhaps where a cannula had been. And he was sixty, a little younger than her parents had been when the war hit, but they had both looked younger than the man in front of her now.

“I suppose we do,” she replied numbly. She took a sip of her drink. It wasn’t the same as pre-war black tea, not quite, but it was the closest thing she’d tasted in a long time.

“I imagine you have a great deal to ask me.”

Joanna watched the steam rise from her cup and considered all the questions she wanted answers to. She barely knew where to start. There was so much she had heard about or seen with her own eyes. Abductions. Replacements. Small armies of synths slaughtering anyone in their path. Virgil’s experiments on human subjects. Last night’s attack on the Castle. And this place itself; what purpose did it serve? What did they want that required such an absolute rejection of the world outside? She needed to know it all. But first she needed to understand why she and her son had been set on this path in the first place.

“Why did they take you?”

Shaun’s chair gave a faint creak as he settled back into it. He thought for a moment about how best to reply. “For my DNA,” he said in the end.

“What? Why?”

“At that time, the scientists here were working on a project that would change everything; redefine the future of humanity. They needed uncorrupted DNA to work with. After the atom bombs fell, radiation affected almost all survivors to some extent, including the Institute forefathers who sheltered themselves under CIT. When our scientists learned about the cryogenic vault, and that an infant from before the Great War was inside, it was the perfect opportunity.”

Joanna suppressed a shudder at his choice of words. “What did they do to you?” she asked. “Did they hurt you?”

“No. I was very well cared for. The samples were taken without pain or distress.”

“How can you know that? You were just a baby, you can’t remember what they did.”

“The sampling went on throughout my childhood,” Shaun went on benignly. “It was just a normal part of my daily life, like school or play. I didn’t know any different. But what I did know, what they were always careful to remind me, was that I was _important_. I had an instrumental role to play in the survival of mankind.”

His smile unnerved Joanna. “What does that even mean? What were they doing?”

“The synths,” Shaun replied. “Before I came here, they’d long since developed the first and second generation androids you’ve seen both here and on the surface. But the third generation of synthetic intelligence required a huge leap forward. A brain modelled directly after ours. A machine built from synthetic organics, using human DNA. _My_ DNA.”

Joanna stared at him. She’d heard that the synths were indistinguishable from humans; Nick and Piper had told her so, as had Dr Amari in Goodneighbor. She had seen the little boy with her own eyes. Touched his perfect skin. But until this moment she had naively assumed that under their flawless disguises the synths were more machine than human. That was the Brotherhood’s line: robots, masquerading as men.

“They’re… I don’t understand,” she said. “You’re talking about cloning?”

“No, clones are exact copies. My DNA was used as a base. Think of it as a template, and each synth has a slight variation on that template which makes them unique.”

Joanna felt as though the weight of all the earth and rock above their heads was bearing down upon her. “That’s why they call you ‘Father’?”

“Yes.” He smiled again. He was proud to have been chosen for this.

Joanna shook her head in disgust. “These people stole you from your parents,” she said. “Aren’t you angry?”

Shaun’s expression faded. “No. I know it’s hard to understand—”

“What’s hard to understand is that my son was kidnapped so he could be used as a lab rat to make an army of… _imitations_ ,” Joanna seethed. “What’s _hard to understand_ is that they sent a mercenary to take you from your father’s arms. Kellogg murdered him. And for what? Why not take all of us? Why not let us be together? Nate is dead. Our neighbours suffocated around us. All so the Institute could play God.”

“Those losses are regrettable,” Shaun replied sharply. “Clearly I would prefer for there to have been less… collateral damage.” Joanna flinched. “But that is the reality, something neither one of us can change, and I do believe that many years from now, when future generations look back and see what we have achieved, the end will have justified the means.”

Joanna put down her cup with a clatter and got to her feet. “You’re _brainwashed_.”

There was a noise behind her, and she turned to see the Courser, X6-88, standing on the stairs to the upper level of Shaun’s quarters.

“It’s all right, X6,” Shaun said. “There’s no problem. My mother is just feeling emotional.”

“What is this?” she demanded, turning back to Shaun. “A bodyguard, in case I step out of line?”

“X6 is only here to assist me,” Shaun replied, but there was a firmness in his stare that implied she would be wiser to sit down and gather herself.

Joanna looked from him to the expressionless face of the Courser. Her heart slammed with righteous anger at the injustice of it all. She breathed hard, and her holotags and Nate’s ring shifted on her chest with the movement. She squeezed her eyes closed, just for a few seconds, and summoned every last bit of strength she had to contain the detonation that threatened to tear her apart. She could not risk wasting any more time by being sedated again. With a slow exhale she lowered herself back into her chair and laid her hands in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She couldn’t look at Shaun just yet, so she stared straight out at the open area below them, where uniformed workers swept the paths and tended the plants as though it were some perfectly ordinary pre-war park. As though this were an ordinary day and everything was fine. “It’s… This is all extremely difficult for me.”

“I understand,” Shaun replied with warmth in his tone.

She turned to him. His dark eyes glittered with shrewd intelligence but not empathy. He didn’t understand, couldn’t. He was, however, visibly relieved by her good behaviour. Joanna thought of the little synth boy she had met on the night she arrived, silenced with a few words when he showed fear. She could play nice. She could seal it all away behind the impassive mask she had worn when she was still Detective Mayes. It wouldn’t be easy, but then nothing was any more.

She picked up her cup and saucer and drank some of her tea, barely tasting it.

“I think the best way for you to understand the value of the Institute’s work is to see it for yourself,” Shaun said. “I’d like you to meet the staff who oversee our key divisions.

“Yes. I’d like that very much.”

Shaun nodded and set his empty cup down. “Before you begin, there is something I must ask you. I hope you will understand why.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at her carefully. “When you arrived here, you told me you gave yourself up to protect the others on the surface. The Brotherhood and the Minutemen. I need to know if you are still loyal to them.”

Joanna looked him in the eye. “I gave myself up to find you.”

“You said they were ‘your people’.”

“They helped me get this far. I can’t pretend I don’t appreciate that,” she replied. “And I said that before I knew who you were. I still needed something to bargain with.”

“And now?”

“Now, I don’t.” She put her own cup down and refilled Shaun’s from the pot. “Do you plan to hurt them?”

“Why?”

“Because I’d prefer you didn’t. They are good people. I don’t wish for them to come to any harm.”

Shaun took the cup from her and laughed coldly. “The Brotherhood of Steel are zealots and warmongers.”

“The Brotherhood are like everyone else, doing what they believe they must to survive.”

“You know as well as I do that they came here to destroy us. I assume that’s why you joined them in the first place. They won’t succeed, of course. But they will put up a good fight. I need to know if you will be able to stand against them when that day comes.”

Joanna took a moment to pour herself some more tea. “I will stand on the side of my family,” she said. His brown eyes searched hers for any sign of deceit.

“And the… affair? With Maxson?”

She held his gaze, unblinking. “Everything I have done, I have done to get to you.”

A tone sounded from a speaker somewhere, and a voice announced the arrival of their breakfast.

Shaun straightened in his chair. “It’s about time. X6, get the door, please.”

Two synths entered and began to set the table with various dishes and cutlery. Shaun, apparently satisfied by Joanna’s response, told her about the day he had planned for her.  

“You are where you’re meant to be, Mother,” he said as they ate. “I know it doesn’t feel like home yet. But give it time, and it will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up later today. :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, today's second update. :) 
> 
> Chapter warning for mild horror.

"Gosh, I hardly know what to call you,” Allie Filmore said as she pumped Joanna’s hand eagerly. She chuckled. “You’re Father’s mother, but I doubt you’d be happy to be called _Grandmother_.”

Joanna smiled back. “Please, just call me Joanna.”

She suspected Shaun was easing her in gently by starting with Filmore, a pleasant, forty-ish woman who ran the Facilities division. The woman explained her department’s role as they crossed the open park area. Joanna listened and nodded politely as Filmore told her about the huge generators below their feet, the revolutionary water filtration system she’d helped design, the towering pipes behind the walls that channelled clean air around the facility. The Institute was almost completely isolated from the world outside. The main exception was energy, which they had to leech from the surface to top up their own generators’ output.

“Where do you get that kind of power?” Joanna enquired.

“At the moment we’re siphoning some from a former hospital,” Filmore replied.

“Kendall, by any chance?” Joanna asked. She forced a smile. “That’s… where Shaun was born.”

“You don’t say? It’s a little different nowadays, I’m afraid.”

“It certainly is. Riddled with supermutants and raiders, last time I was in the neighbourhood.”

“Well, at least it was good for something. Bringing Father into the world, and giving us the occasional top-up.” She kept on walking, leading Joanna up some wide steps to another lawn. “We won’t need to do that for long, though, if I have anything to do with it.”

“No?”

“No. There’s…” She caught herself before saying more, then smirked and lowered her voice. “Let’s just say we have something big up our sleeves.”

Joanna wanted to ask more, but they were interrupted by a child’s voice.

“Mom!” A boy of eight or nine years with mussed red hair and freckles scrambled up from his spot under the trees and ran towards them. There were grass stains on his white tunic. “Guess what! My robotics project got an A. And Miss D9 said she wants to show it to Doctor Loken.”

“That’s wonderful,” his mother replied, bending to plant a kiss on the top of his head. Joanna glanced away. “Your dad will be so excited to hear it. What are you up to now? Free period?”

“Yeah. Then botany, but Julia is sick so I don’t wanna go.”

“Too bad, young man, you’re still going.” Filmore beamed at Joanna. “This is my son, Quentin. Quentin, this is Joanna. She’s a very special guest of Father’s. Why don’t you say hello?”

The boy leaned against his mother’s side and peered up at Joanna. “Hello,” he said. “Where do you work?”

“Hi, Quentin. Ah, I don’t know. I… only just got here.”

“Where’d you live before?”

“In a town up on the surface.”

Quentin’s eyes popped wide. “Wow. Did you get contaminated?”

“Uh…”

“Quentin, that’s rude. Of course she’s not contaminated.” She rolled her eyes in amusement. “Sorry. They hear all these horror stories, you know.”

“That’s okay.” Filmore must know the horror stories were true, but she didn’t want her son to be afraid. Joanna could hardly blame her.

Quentin trailed along with them as they walked on. Filmore was immensely proud of her role within the Institute, and a fervent supporter of Shaun’s. “The advances we’ve made in two hundred years have all been impressive, but what we’ve achieved under Father is unprecedented,” she frothed.

She went on to explain that since the Institute’s inception, it had expanded ever deeper and wider under the city, and new building work was going on all the time. “It’s never stopped growing,” she said. “Who knows what it will be like in another hundred years.” She looked around wistfully. “I just hope I’m around to see it.”

Joanna looked at her in bemusement. “Do you expect to be around in a hundred years?” she asked.

Filmore shrugged and waved a hand. “Well, nothing’s impossible. That’s one of our mottos around here. As you should know only too well. You’re older than any one of us!” She smiled. “Gosh, I’d love to ask you about what the world was like before. I suppose you get tired of hearing that, though. You’re in such a unique position.”

Joanna could have pointed out that there were others on the surface who had survived the last two centuries, but she doubted the Institute thought too kindly of ghouls. “I’d be happy to tell you about it sometime,” she said. “But not today, I’m afraid. I have quite a full day planned.”

“Ah, yes. I believe you’re visiting BioScience next.”

“Will she see the gorillas?” Quentin chirped up, tilting his head to look up at his mother.

Joanna wondered if she had misheard. “The what?”

Filmore laughed and smoothed her son’s hair. “Oh, you’ll see.”

*

Quentin hadn’t been kidding. Joanna stared wide-eyed into the glass-walled enclosure where two huge silverbacks strutted on all fours amongst thick jungle foliage.

“Why gorillas?”

“We discovered we could synthesise animals using the library of DNA samples from the old university. Think of all those extinct species, available to us again.”

Joanna glanced at the man beside her. Clayton Holdren looked too young to have a title as grand as Head of the BioScience Division. Smiling and sandy-haired, his cheery enthusiasm for his work reminded Joanna of Allie Filmore’s. They could be the Institute’s poster children.

“I suppose I can understand that,” Joanna replied. “But still… why gorillas? Why not chickens? Or goats, even? Something you could use as a source of food?” She pictured chickens scratching in the dirt in Sanctuary. What a difference that could make to the settlers.

Holdren blinked at her for a moment like a slightly perplexed owl. Clearly she was missing something extremely obvious. “The gorilla was one of the most intelligent of all primates,” he said. “There’s so much we can learn from them about human intelligence. And we always like to exceed our own expectations at the Institute. Why not aim high and recreate one of the most complex species that ever lived? Anything else is child’s play after that.”

Joanna could think of a number of reasons why not, but she kept them to herself. “I see.”

“Plus, I always was fascinated by the great apes. Truth be told, these two are something of a pet project.”

Joanna looked back at the enclosure where the larger of the two apes was now sitting and scratching thoughtfully at its neck. She had the uneasy sensation it was watching them. “Well, they’re very… impressive.”

The rest of BioScience made more sense to her. Green-gloved lab assistants tended row upon row of plants and seedlings in long trays, lit and heated by lamps. Some were medicinal while others were food crops, Holdren explained. As with the animals, stored DNA samples from the old CIT had given them access to a much wider variety of plant life than was available anywhere on the surface, as well as the ability to cultivate new ones. Joanna pictured the scrubby farm at Sanctuary. Marcy and Jun toiling over the corn. Scribe Gillespie and her cramped botanical lab aboard the Prydwen. The scribe would foam at the mouth if she saw this place, provided she could put aside the Brotherhood’s hatred for a moment.

There were separate labs dedicated to the study of genetics and medicine, and a sealed-off area that Holdren ushered Joanna past, but not before she noticed the neat sign printed ‘FEV Section’. With a chill, she remembered what Dr Virgil had told her about his experiments on human subjects. Had the mild-mannered Dr Holdren really authorised something so heinous? Or had the orders come directly from Shaun?

The last section they visited made her forget her doubts, at least temporarily. At the door, Dr Holdren handed her a pair of gloves and a broad-rimmed hat with a long black net hanging from it.

“Just a precaution,” he said, arranging his own head covering.

They stepped through the door and passed through a long curtain made up of thin plastic strips, and Joanna gasped aloud. She hadn’t seen so much colour since before she had been sealed inside Vault 111. The room was huge, filled with rows of square planters at different heights, each crowded with leafy crops in every imaginable shade of green. Everything was in flower with blooms large and small, white and yellow and red and orange and lilac, so many that she hardly knew where to look first. And all around them flew thousands of bees. Joanna breathed in deeply through her nose to savour the heady smell of nectar and damp soil. The cocktail of scents and the hum of the bees stirred memories of the past. Her parents’ garden. Her own flower beds at the house in Sanctuary, lovingly maintained by Codsworth. Every summer park and spring woodland of her childhood.

“This is the pollination room,” Holdren explained.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.                                                    

The enormous lamps overhead made the room almost tropically warm after the cool open space of the main lab. Joanna walked between the planters in a trance, stopping every few steps to pause and inhale a new smell. A bee landed on her glove and she raised her hand to watch in fascination as it crawled along her outstretched finger. Clusters of bright orange pollen clung to the backs of its legs. Bees had been wiped out long ago on the surface. There were still some insects that aided pollination of settlement crops, but without bees it was yet another painstaking task for the settlers. She’d watched farmers hand-pollinate using an artist’s paintbrush as a tool. This tiny creature was nothing short of a miracle.

She could have stayed there all day, but eventually Dr Holdren started to make pointed comments about his workload, so Joanna reluctantly tore herself away. She thanked Holdren before heading back to the central hub of the Institute to get some lunch.  

She felt like being alone, so she took her food and went to sit on a bench under the trees. When the temptation became too much to resist, she slipped off her shoes and let her bare feet sink into the grass. A long sigh left her and she closed her eyes.

She stayed for half an hour, just enjoying the feeling of turf underfoot and the sound of flowing water before shaking herself and focusing once more. She wasn’t here to indulge her senses. She still had one last meeting that day. She curled her toes against the grass, put on her shoes, and headed for the Robotics Division.

*

She didn’t know what she had expected to see in the Gen 3 Laboratory. After Shaun’s revelations that morning, she had vaguely pictured human shapes growing from a gelatinous mass in a vat. An idea lodged in her subconscious from an episode of _Theatre of Wonders_ , perhaps. But the reality was unlike anything she could have possibly imagined.

Her tour of Robotics had begun inoffensively enough, as the director, Alan Binet, escorted her through the labs and workshops where Gen 1s and 2s were constructed, programmed and repaired. Joanna was starting to see a trend among the division leaders. Binet was passionate about his area of expertise, and practically lit up from within when he talked about it. So when he had smiled broadly and asked Joanna if she would like to watch a synth being born, she’d almost believed she was to witness something magical.

These days Joanna tended to think of her adult life as split into two distinct chapters, separated by the cryogenic sleep. Her very own Ice Age. But in both lifetimes, as a cop and as a soldier, she had seen a lot of death. She had seen the intricacies of the human body laid open either through violence or post-mortem dissection. She’d known the agony and joy of birth.

What she saw now was neither birth nor death, but a perversion of the two. The lab was as cold and clinical as a morgue. And the so-called ‘birth’ was an autopsy in reverse.

The process began with a huge circular glass slab like an oversized petri dish. Joanna could make out the outlines of a body on the glass; the blueprint, she supposed. A pair of robotic arms extended from the ceiling above them and began to pluck perfect white bones from a steel table and piece them together on the glass like a human jigsaw puzzle. Once the skeleton was complete, another arm moved the dish to the next station. Here, slick-looking organs were placed within the body’s frame with expert precision.

Joanna’s breath whispered inside the papery clean suit she wore over her clothes. She watched in speechless fascination as a network of nerves, muscles and blood cells was knitted onto the skeleton from the feet up. The tips of the robot arms moved so fast she could barely keep track of them.

Alan Binet, his face concealed by the tinted visor of his own clean suit, stood by her side and narrated the process in a teacherly fashion. His scientists cultivated the brain, bones and organs in a separate lab according to the strict specifications of each synth, he explained. Nerve and muscle tissue, skin, blood and hair were generated for each ‘batch’, giving each synth within the series a similar, though not identical, appearance.

“This unit is part of the R11 series,” Binet told her. “They’re a tall and muscular group, medium to high intellect. We expect some to train as Coursers.”

Joanna finally found her voice. “And the others?”

“The usual Gen 3 roles. Some assist us in the labs, in tasks that are beyond the capabilities of Gen 2s. Others operate on the surface, to trade or salvage, for example. We may be a large community compared to most surface settlements, but the workload of all our projects far exceeds what we can manage with our numbers. In short, we need all the help we can get.”

The current stage was still in progress, so Binet described the next steps for her. Once the muscles and nervous system were complete, the unit would pass to the third and final station where blood would be pumped into the circulatory system and electric currents administered to start the heart. From there the synth would be transferred to the vat in the centre of the room. Joanna peered into the churning red liquid.

“That adds the fatty layers, and finally the skin,” Binet said, gesturing with gloved hands. “That takes several hours, but once it’s complete, we have a brand new, perfect synthetic human.”

“What happens then?”

He pointed to a door across the room. “The unit will head through there, to Processing. We sometimes refer to it as the ‘nursery’. New synths need to go through an orientation period, you see, where they acclimatise to their new body. The neural chip contains instructions for the synth’s speech, movement, perception… all the basic functions. But it takes a few days for that to fully come into effect. It’s a little like installing software, only the hardware we’re using is an organic brain rather than a computer.”

The man’s face was hidden by the tinted visor of his clean suit, but Joanna could tell from his voice that he smiling. She was grateful that he could not see the look on her face.

The synth skeleton was completely covered now, though the musculature was a dull, lifeless shade. It was clear from its outline and the vague shape of testicles between its legs that this was a male. Joanna watched as the glass slab was rotated to the final station. This was where it would… activate? Come to life?

The long, spidery arms that went to work now were tipped with dozens of needles that pierced the synth’s torso. The exposed muscle slowly flooded with rich red as blood flowed into it.

The first loud bolts of electricity made Joanna jump. None of the other scientists so much as glanced up from their work. After the fourth or fifth jolt, the synth’s chest expanded and it began to breathe.

The half-lidded eyes flew open. Skinless lips peeled back, though the synth’s teeth remained clamped together. Its limbs were held rigidly in place apart from tiny spasms twitching the tips of its fingers and toes. Its eyes darted left and right in their sockets, and for a second the wild gaze fell on Joanna. What she felt in that moment went beyond shock into a revulsion that went core-deep. It was not the sight of the synth’s raw body that sickened her, but the collective blindness of the humans around her. Binet chatted pleasantly by her side throughout the ordeal. The other scientists sauntered back and forth, heads bent to their own tasks. Joanna forced herself to watch as the mechanical arm reached once more for the glass slab and carried it towards the tank. The last she saw of the crucified synth were its eyes, rolled back and twitching in its skull.

It was conscious. It was paralysed. And it was in agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you think I'm doing with this. I know it's all pretty grim for the time being, but UGH the Institute. x__x


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, I wrote another side-fic for the main story called [Paper Tiger](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7059787). It's from Danse's POV this time and takes place immediately after the end of chapter 19. So if you want to find out how Jo's Boys reacted to her disappearance (and each other), check it out. 
> 
> This chapter takes place after a time jump, so if things don't make sense yet... it's not you, it's me. ;)

The first thing that hit her was the smell of rotten wood and polluted earth. A hint of salt on the breeze did little to freshen the dank air. Joanna had grown accustomed to the Commonwealth’s stink in the months she had spent on the surface, but now it was overpowering, even through the air filters on her radiation suit.

“Come on,” the Courser said. “We don’t have much time.”

Damp earth squished under her gloves as she pushed herself onto her knees. Swaying, she got to her feet and hooked the drawstring bag back over her shoulder. She wondered how long it usually took to get used to travel by relay. At least she had kept her dinner down this time.

X6-88 led the way through the trees. Joanna glanced up at the night sky between dead branches. She had only been away for a week, but how she had missed the stars. She missed the sun, too. She trudged on in her clumsy boots. After a few more yards she heard the faint trickle of a stream. They were close.

“Stay close, and stay quiet,” X6 instructed. “Stop immediately if I tell you to.”

“Of course.”

X6 didn’t trust her. X6 didn’t seem to trust anyone besides Shaun and that asshole Justin Ayo, so Joanna didn’t take it personally. She’d learned that an attitude of suspicion was key to a Courser’s mindset.

They crossed the stream at a narrow point and climbed the bank beyond until lights from the town came into view through the remaining trees. Someone was playing a harmonica, and the sound tinted the air with nostalgia. A radio murmured in another house. Voices chattered over an evening drink. And under it all, the grumble and cough of the generator. The sounds of Sanctuary. Sounds of home. Joanna longed to stroll into the street and see the faces of her friends. Sink a Gwinnett pale or two in the clubhouse. She was put in mind of _A Christmas Carol_ , the scene in which Scrooge visits his past but cannot reach out to touch it. She turned to her black-clad, taciturn Ghost of Christmas Past.

“This way,” she said, and gestured left.

Her house was in darkness. She passed between crumbling fence posts into the back yard, X6 a few steps ahead to check that the coast was clear. They entered through the side door and the Courser melted into the shadows of the living room.

“Do what you need to do.”

Joanna looked around, eyes adjusting to the gloom. Bedroom first. She got a few paces toward the hallway before a hand gripped her shoulder to hold her back. X6 pushed ahead, gun raised. A sound came from the nursery, accompanied by a soft glow from the doorway.

“Stop,” she hissed, reaching out a hand to place on the Courser’s outstretched arm. “It’s just Codsworth.”

He turned his head. “Father instructed us to avoid all contact.”

“To avoid _human_ contact,” Joanna corrected. “Codsworth is a robot. I already cleared this with my son. But by all means, ask him over your comm link if you’d like him tell you a second time.”

X6 waited a moment before lowering his laser rifle. Joanna nodded and moved past him to the nursery door. The lanterns weren’t lit, but the flame of Codsworth’s thruster lit the room enough to cast wavering shadows on the wall as he hovered by the broken crib. Joanna watched as he reached down with his claw attachment and carefully straightened the blanket.

She took a step forward. “Codsworth.”

The robot’s eyes swivelled the moment she spoke. “Is—Is that _you_ , mum?”

“Yes.” She reached up with both hands and tugged off the helmet of her ridiculous space suit. It made a rubbery _pop_ as the seal gave way.

“Ma’am,” X6’s warning tone came from the hallway.

“It’s fine,” she replied. “I lived up here for six months without a rad suit. I can go a few more minutes.” She turned back to Codsworth. “I wanted you to see it was really me.”

“Oh, mum! What a delight it is to see you!”

Joanna stepped closer and whispered to him. “Shhh, please, I need you to be quiet. Nobody can know I’m here.”

Codsworth’s eyes tilted on their stalks in a way she could have sworn was quizzical. “But are you safe, mum? I heard you’d been… _abducted_.”

“I’m safe. Everything’s all right. But—I can’t stay, Codsworth.” She reached out and placed a hand on the smooth sphere of his body. It was more to comfort herself, since the robot couldn’t feel her touch. “I came back for a few things. And… to say goodbye.”

His eyes whirred softly as he adjusted his focus on her. “Where will you be going?”

“I found Shaun.” She tried to make her voice bright. “I’m going to be with him.”

Codsworth bobbed in the air. “Master Shaun? He’s well?”

“Yes. He’s doing fine. But I can’t bring him back here. I’m sorry, I can’t explain it all. There’s just no time.”

“How can I be of assistance, mum? Shall I pack some things for Master Shaun?”

Joanna avoided looking at the shelf to her left, lined with the few surviving toys. She swallowed down the hard knot in her throat. “Uh, no. It’s all right. He has everything he needs.” She slid the bag off her shoulder. “But there is something you can do for me.”

She crouched to untie the drawstring and pulled out a roll of thick fabric. She let it unravel in her hands as she stood.

“It’s my General’s coat,” she said, draping it over one arm. “I need you to give it to Preston, as soon as you can. Tell him it’s his now. Tell him… it’s always been his.”

“The Colonel is here in Sanctuary,” Codsworth replied. “Are you sure you can’t stay and speak with him? I know how terribly worried he has been.”

Her heart skipped. She pictured Preston sitting nearby, probably in the clubhouse with Sturges and the Longs, so close and yet so far. “I can’t,” she said. “I need you to tell him. You can do it as soon as I’ve gone.”

“As you wish, mum.”

She reached into the bag and pulled out another, smaller item. One of Codsworth’s eyes tilted down toward her upturned palm. “My Brotherhood holotags,” she said. “Please ask Preston to pass them on to Paladin Danse, should he see him again.”

“Is there a message to deliver with them?”

“Yes.” Joanna cleared her throat. “Now that I’ve found Shaun, I can no longer be a member of the Brotherhood. But I would like to extend my gratitude to Danse, and to Elder Maxson, for the help they gave me in locating my son.” She laid the coat on the dresser by the door, and dropped the holotags on top.

“Very well, mum.”

Joanna sniffed. “Look after the house for me, okay? And keep helping Marcy and Jun out with the farm. They need you.”

Codsworth’s movements slowed. “Of course.”

“Goodbye, my friend.”

She turned away from him, hating herself for it. She told herself what she had always tried to tell herself: that Codsworth was a robot and couldn’t experience sadness. But she hadn’t believed it two hundred years ago and she didn’t believe it now.

“Was there anything else?” X6-88 asked her coolly from the shadows.

“I need some things from the bedroom,” she mumbled.

She went to the cabinet beside her bed and pulled open the drawer. Even under Codsworth’s constant vigilance, there had been almost nothing left of hers and Nate’s after two centuries of looting and decay. What little remained was in here. A single photograph in a frame, faded almost to white. A keychain with _NM_ engraved on it. And his trifold flag in its box. The wood was crumbling and the fabric stained, but she had stowed it here like treasure. She took these items now, laying them first on the bed where X6 could see them before placing one after the other into her bag.

She stood and replaced her helmet before turning to face him. “I’d like a few minutes with my husband before we go.”

The Courser nodded once, barely visible in the dark. Joanna went past him and left the house without lingering. It hurt too much to stay among the memories.

Nate’s grave marker was a block of grey amid the garden’s inky shadows. She knelt beside it as she had weeks earlier, the day before departing for the Glowing Sea. If only she had known then what she knew now.

“I saw you,” she said softly. She brushed her fingers over the notches that marked his name. “I came pretty close to joining you for a while there, didn’t I? I won’t pretend there haven’t been times when I felt like I’d be better off if I had.” She sighed. “But that’s me feeling sorry for myself. I know that you would want me to keep going.”

The breeze picked up, moaning through hollowed tree limbs.

“I did what I said I would,” she whispered. “I found him. I wanted to bring our baby back home to you. It was so clear in my mind. Turns out the world doesn’t care a whole lot about what I want. I’ve had to make choices I never could have imagined. I just hope… I hope you can understand why I’ve done things the way I have.”

Two sharp barks cut through the night. Dogmeat. Had he caught her scent on the wind? For a wild moment, Joanna considered letting him sniff her out so she could throw her arms around him again, just for a second. But she remembered how quickly X6 had dispatched the guards at the Castle, and thought better of it.

“We need to leave,” the Courser said.

“I’m coming,” she replied. She ran her hand over the stone one last time and said, “Love you. Always. And I promise I’ll keep doing the best I can.”

*

By contrast, the Institute smelled of ionised air and cleaning products. Joanna passed through the decontamination arch and went to a nearby rack to strip out of her bulky rad suit. She wore plain Institute garb underneath.

“You don’t need to wait for me, you know,” she told X6-88, who stood by the console with his arms folded across his chest. “I know my way by now.”

X6 looked back at her without reply. She knew it was pointless; he wasn’t letting her out of his sight this close to the molecular relay. Never mind that she had neither an access code nor the faintest idea how to operate the damn thing. But she held out a faint hope that she might prompt the Courser into some kind of expression. A roll of the eyes, maybe, or the twitch of one eyebrow. Not today.

They headed in silence to Shaun’s quarters.

It was after ten, past the time Shaun usually retired for the evening, but he had chosen to wait up for Joanna in his study.

“Good evening, Mother.”

Shaun sat in an easy chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He was looking better than he had when she first arrived. There was more colour in his cheeks and his cane was nowhere in sight. She wondered if he planned to pay one of his late night visits to the Synth Retention Bureau. Madison Li was in the other chair, her feet tucked primly under the chair and a glass clutched in her hands. Her eyes were as cool and humourless as ever when she looked up at Joanna.

“Doctor Li.” Joanna nodded once at her, then headed to Shaun’s side. She bent and kissed his cheek. She straightened and cast an eye at the bottle of scotch on the table beside him. “Are you sure you should be drinking on your medication?”

He chuckled. “I assure you, I have not strayed from Dean’s orders.”

Dean Volkert was Shaun’s physician. Joanna had visited him a couple of times in the past week too, and the doctor had given her a peculiar heat treatment as well as medication to ease the lingering pain in her back and side. Faint traces of greenish bruise were all that remained to prove she had ever faced the deathclaw.

“How was your little expedition?” Shaun asked.

“It was fine. Free of incident.”

“Good, good.”

Joanna glanced at Madison Li, who set down her glass and got to her feet.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone. Thank you for the drink, Shaun. I’ll see you in the morning.” She arched one thin eyebrow at Joanna. “Mrs Mayes.”

The doctor went off to her own quarters. Shaun dismissed X6-88 back to SRB.

“I do hope the two of you can get along,” he said as Joanna took the seat Li had vacated.  

“Who, me and X6? Is that even possible?”

Shaun sighed. “You and Madison. You will eventually, I’m sure. She’s a brilliant woman. The two of you are probably more alike than you think.”

Joanna wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “We get on all right,” she said. “She’s always polite when I go to see S9.”

She opened the bag in her lap and took out the items she had brought from the house, showing them to Shaun one at a time. She kept her voice light as she told him a little about each one. The flag was the hardest.

“I thought about burying it with him, but I couldn’t do it. The army meant the world to your father. But they hurt him, too. In the end I kept it by the bed instead.”

“Such a shame,” Shaun murmured.

“What is?”

He shook his head, turning the box over in his hands. “That you buried him,” he said. “If only his body had remained frozen, perhaps…”

Joanna’s heart slowed to a stop. “Perhaps what?”

He turned his calm brown eyes on her. “You’ve seen what we can do here. I could have found a way for us to all be together again.”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even open her mouth. She stared at the faded photograph cradled in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” Shaun said. “I’ve upset you. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He reached across the table and patted her hand.

“It’s all right,” she forced out.

“At least we’re together now.”

Joanna nodded. She brushed her hand over her eyes. “Anyway,” she said. “That’s one mission accomplished. Am I still on for the next?”

Shaun handed the box back to her. “Allie will be ready to go ahead soon. But it's really not necessary for you to go. That’s what we have Coursers for.”

“I understand that, but I have skills that could come in handy. I’m familiar with the building. And I know more about the terminals you find in those old offices than any of your Coursers will.” 

“I don’t want you in danger.”

She shook her head. “I told you, the Minutemen cleared out Mass Fusion a few months ago. The worst we’ll find there will be a few raiders seeking shelter. And we both know the Brotherhood will have… other things to worry about when the time comes. I’m convinced we can be in and out in less than an hour.”

He peered at her. “Why are you so keen to go?” Joanna wasn’t sure if it was suspicion or just his usual scientific curiosity.

She shrugged. “Everyone else has their role here, but I don’t yet. This is a way I can feel useful. And that’s important to me.”

*

An hour later, she lay in bed unable to sleep. Too many thoughts ricocheted around the walls of her skull. They were deafening.

By now, Codsworth must have given her coat to Preston. She pictured him holding it in his hands, disappointment etched into his kind face as the robot passed on her message. Her friend hid a deep melancholy behind his agreeable smile. It killed her to be the one to add to it. But she prayed he would not let it overcome him now, when she needed him to do what she could not.

And then there was the day to come. There was so much that could go wrong. It was foolish to hope that none of the players involved would come out unscathed, but she had to trust that she had done everything she could. She had to trust them, and herself.

That was easier said than done. After an hour or more of lying rigidly in her bed, blinking into the darkness and nervously chewing the inside of her mouth, she quit trying to sleep and got up. She pulled her Pip-boy from the drawer beside her bed and loaded up a holotape.

Liam Binet—whose father, Alan, led the Robotics division—was something of an enthusiast for pre-war games. He had managed to acquire a small collection via synths who made trading excursions to the surface, and he kept an old-fashioned terminal for the sole purpose of playing. When he’d seen Joanna’s interest in his collection, he had kindly offered to lend her some. She’d practically bitten his hand off. There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment in the Institute.

She went out onto her balcony and sat for a while playing _Zeta Invaders_. When she reached her first _GAME OVER_ , she sat and stared at the leaderboard for a long time. The interspersed entries for _JOA_ and _MAX_. In the couple of days she’d had the game, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to knock Arthur’s remaining scores off the list. Whenever she got close, she would quit and restart from the beginning instead. Those three green letters on a screen and the shirt stashed inside a wall panel were all she had of him outside her memories.

Eventually her eyes grew heavy and she dozed in her chair. It felt like mere minutes had passed when she jerked awake from fretful half-dreams, but on checking her Pip-boy display, she saw that it was early morning. She stretched out her stiffened limbs. She was still trying to decide whether to play a new game or go back to bed when something up above caught her eye.

The elevator was descending inside the long glass tube that pierced the central chamber like a beam of light from the heavens. The lights in the car shone clearly under the dimmed artificial sky. Joanna could make out a figure within. A Courser returning from the field, most likely. As it sank closer, she saw that there were in fact two people inside. One on his feet, dressed in black.

One on his knees, dressed in orange.

She was standing on trembling legs by the time the elevator was level with her balcony. The soldier’s hands were behind his back and his head hung low. The right side of his uniform was stained red. His hair was dark. The man’s face was in shadow, and he was too far away for Joanna to make out finer details, but that didn’t keep her from knowing with absolute, bone-deep conviction who he was.

She swayed and clasped her hands to her mouth as the earth beneath her feet—the earth all around her, in fact—seemed to collapse. It was Danse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks thrown objects* I know, cliffhanger Fancy is a bad Fancy!! I will try not to keep you waiting too long for answers! We're getting to the juicy stuff now. Thank you all so so much for sticking with me so patiently, and for feeding back your thoughts (and feels) with such enthusiasm. I really love you guys. <3


	24. Chapter 24

Joanna walked as briskly as she dared across the glass-floored park. Panic churned inside her but she could not let it show. The watchful eyes of the Institute were all around her. The humans, the synths; even the walls themselves had digital eyes, forever vigilant. This place, so convinced by its own lofty pretences of utopia, was rotten with paranoia.

She was sick of pretending. Her face ached from forcing an insipid smile when all she wanted to do was scream. But she wasn’t the only one. Everyone here was pretending, from the Gen 3s who didn’t dare make eye contact lest they be caught expressing emotion, to the man right at the top. Her son. He was the biggest pretender of them all, and the most dangerous, because somewhere along the way he had come to believe his own lies.

She crossed the grass and walked up the steps towards BioScience, where she scanned the first of her key cards at the entrance. Her name flashed up briefly on the display panel before the doors pulled apart with a soft sucking noise. No one else was in sight at this early hour. Before she reached the main lab, she ducked into a side corridor on the right and hurried along the hallway to the rendezvous point. At another door, she stopped and scanned her second key card. This one was a forgery that identified her as a low-level Gen 3 synth. The synth in question did not exist except in the form of data on the network.

Safely inside, Joanna felt around for the light switch. A strip light on the ceiling fizzed and flickered into life. This storeroom was barely used, and remained one of the few spaces in the Institute without surveillance. She paced the small area and waited for the other impostor to show. Her contact. Her sole trusted ally. And, god willing, her salvation.

It was almost ten minutes before the door finally slid open and a figure stepped inside. Joanna turned to her contact, who waited until the door was firmly sealed behind them before speaking.

“This had better be urgent.”

The lines around Madison Li’s eyes and mouth were more severe than usual. She looked tired. Joanna’s signal—three short presses of the intercom buzzer by Li’s door, their agreed code for _emergency—_ must have roused the doctor before she was ready for the day. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail rather than the elegant chignon she usually wore.

“It is,” Joanna assured her. “I need you to get me into SRB.”

“What? Please tell me you mean onto the network and not literally.”

“Inside. Physically.”

Madison frowned deeper. “You know that’s impossible. I can barely get in there myself. Tell me what’s happened.”

Joanna hurriedly told her about Danse. Not half an hour earlier she had watched in horror as the Courser dragged her friend’s unconscious body from the elevator to the Synth Retention Bureau.

“He needs our help, Madison. You know what they’ll do to him.”

Li shook her head, clearly disturbed. “You’re aware of what this suggests, aren’t you?”

“It doesn’t mean he’s a synth,” Joanna insisted. “They took Goody, and he wasn’t. We both know they perform extractions on humans too. Danse was in restraints, which means he put up a fight. He wouldn’t do that if he was working for them.”

The doctor’s voice was gentler when she reminded Joanna, “Not all synths know what they are.”

Joanna pictured Danse on his knees, head bowed. Not unlike the way S9’s head had hung down when Shaun read out his recall code. “No. He can’t be.”

“I thought your opinion on synths had changed?”

“It has. But _his_ hasn’t. He’s Brotherhood to the core. If it turns out he’s a synth, it’ll _kill_ him.”

“We can’t worry about that right now.” Li sighed. “Is it likely your Minuteman friend already spoke to him?”

“I think so.” Joanna stumbled to the nearest storage crate and sat down on it. This was where she had sat down the afternoon before to record two holotapes, feeling almost as much of a nervous wreck as she did today. “After I left Sanctuary, Preston would have had plenty of time to get my message and reach a Brotherhood post on foot. Cambridge, most likely. From there he could have gotten word to Danse. Which means that as soon as Ayo starts the extraction...”

“...Everything we’ve done will be exposed.” Li visibly paled.

Joanna nodded weakly. She looked at the time on her Pip-boy. It was still before seven. “It’s unlikely they would have made it to the Prydwen yet. Which means the Brotherhood doesn’t know what’s coming.”

Madison tucked her hands into the pockets of her tunic and began to pace. Her shrewd eyes fixed on the floor in front of her feet. Joanna wrapped her arms around herself, forcing herself to stay quiet and let the doctor think.

“Right. Well. We mustn’t panic,” Li said after a minute or two. “First I need to gather some information. I think I can throw a spanner in the works to delay Justin, at least for an hour or two. After that... I have a couple of ideas.”

“Do you need my help?”

“I will, but not yet. There’s someone I can go to. An ally.”

There was a small and extremely secretive network within the Institute who shared the same doubts about its direction. Madison was at the heart of that network. Joanna did not know who the doctor’s other allies were, and they didn’t know about her. It was safer for everyone that way.

Joanna got to her feet. “I’ll come to you later, then.”

“Not to my office. We don’t want Shaun to become suspicious.”

“Don’t worry. He’s still convinced we hate each other.” Madison actually ventured a smile at that. “I’ll tell him I’d like to spend time with S9.”

“All right. Now hurry, Mrs Mayes, or you’ll be late for breakfast.”

*

Joanna wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so on edge, but she somehow survived a tortuous breakfast without Shaun picking up on her anxiety. Afterwards she went outside to sit in the park and wait. She had her Pip-boy, but she struggled to concentrate even on _Zeta Invaders_. It only made her think of Arthur, which made her worry about what was—or wasn’t—happening up on the surface. God, if her message hadn’t reached the Prydwen… She couldn’t bear to think about what might happen.

She lowered her Pip-boy and found herself people-watching instead. Liam Binet sat on a bench nearby with a reader in his hand. K4-12, the synth who had escorted Joanna on her first day here, came along and sat down on the other end. Liam’s eyes stayed on the screen of his device, but his lips moved as he spoke to K4.

They ought to be more careful. Joanna had caught the way they glanced at each other when they passed on the stairs. She had seen the synth girl’s freckled cheeks flush pink when they did. It was one of many little hints Joanna had picked up over her days here that suggested the demure exterior each synth wore was more nurture than nature.

She wondered if Liam was part of Madison Li’s secret circle. But she was too cynical to assume that just because the young man was attracted to a synth, he had their best interests at heart. She had heard troubling rumours about relations between the two classes.

After an agonisingly long wait—two hours according to her Pip-boy, but it felt like a lifetime—she saw Dr Li leave the Advanced Systems division. At her side was S9-23. The two walked hand in hand down through the park, past the elevator and into the food hall. Joanna sat for a while wondering whether to follow. After a couple of minutes, they emerged and headed towards her. Madison held a disposable cup and a square box in her hands.

“Mrs Mayes,” she said archly. With her face made up and hair coiffured, she looked like her usual self again.

Joanna nodded to her, then smiled warmly at S9. “Good morning, Shaun. How are you today?”

The boy smiled back. He hadn’t been erased in a few days, so he knew who she was. “I finished reading _Robinson Crusoe_. It’s very good. Have you read it?”

“I have,” Joanna replied. Not only had she read it, she knew S9 had, too. Not just once, but several—perhaps even dozens—of times. It was one of many truths Madison had revealed to her. The boy’s mind had been wiped clean more times than a school chalkboard. And every time, he got to enjoy _Robinson Crusoe_ all over again.

“Shaun said he would like to visit the pollination room with you, if you’re free. He enjoyed it last time.”

“Absolutely,” Joanna replied. “Are you ready to go now?”

S9 nodded.

“Since he’s been working so hard lately, I got him a treat,” Dr Li said, and held out the box. A package of Fancy Lads snack cakes. The cardboard in the middle bulged slightly between Joanna’s fingers when she took it. “Don’t let him eat them all, though. No more than two for now, or you’ll spoil your lunch. Agreed?”

“Yes Dr Li,” S9 said, watching the box with bright eyes.

Joanna got to her feet. “I’ll bring him back in a little while.”

Madison nodded, patted S9 on the back, and headed back to her office with her tea.

*

There was a blind corner in the pollination room that the cameras didn’t reach. Joanna went there now and dropped into a crouch beside a wide tray of zucchini plants. The floppy yellow flowers buzzed with insects. She slid open the pack of snack cakes and a holotape dropped into her lap from under the plastic tray inside. S9 had gone off to explore, hunting for fallen blooms to collect. She brushed loose sugar from the tape and loaded it into her Pip-boy.

There was no audio, only three data files. The name of the first made her heart stop.

_M7-97 [CLOSED]_

She opened the file. Two monochrome head shots loaded onto the screen. A man, in front and profile view, with thick black hair and dark brows. His clean-shaven face bore no scars and no expression. Still, it was enough to give Joanna a stab of pain. It couldn’t be. The thought of her friend being… _assembled_ on that rack just cut her to the core.

She made herself scroll down past the pictures. She scanned the text, shaking her head in disbelief. _Fabrication date:_ _11_ _/19/226_ _7_ _. Escaped: circa 8/28/2274._ _Accomplice(s): not determined._ Then there was no information up until the previous year, when an entry from September noted a possible sighting near Malden. Not long before Joanna’s own awakening. There were more sightings in the months since then, and Danse’s Brotherhood rank and various locations had been noted, but it had been deemed too hazardous to attempt a retrieval. One entry, ten days old, mentioned a sighting of M7-97 at the Castle. The night the Courser had taken Joanna instead.

And now, a new entry in bold type.

 _S_ _tatus:_ _RECLAIMED 4/30/2288  
__Operative: Z2-47  
Location: Cambridge __Police Station_ _  
__Unit retrieved outside_ _Cambridge_ _Police Station_ _in early hours of 4/30._ _Brief e_ _xchange_ _of fire_ _with_ _M7-97_ _and unknown civilian._ _Unit_ _subsequently_ _d_ _eactivated and relay_ _ed_ _to HQ._ _Awaiting full memory extraction_ _prior to termination [_ _unit_ _deemed unsuitable for_ _reintegration_ _– JA]._

Joanna’s skin prickled with icy dread as she re-read the notes. _Unknown civilian_ _. Deactivated. Termination._ She had to close her eyes and forcibly slow her breathing to keep from giving in to fear.

She looked again at the documents on the tape. The next one was titled _Map_ , so she skipped ahead and opened the final one, _Note_.

_Sorry to be the bearer of bad news._

_It_ _is unknown if your_ _message reached_ _its_ _target before_ _the Courser did, but we cannot take that chance_ _. Our exposure at this stage would be disastrous and doubt_ _less_ _lead to a_ _further clampdown_ _in_ _Institute security, and_ _likely an_ _escalation in future conflict. Since the status of_ _your_ _outside contacts is unclear, I see no alternative but to forcibly bring forward P3 ourselves_ _from within these walls_ _._ _I’m afraid this falls to you._ _By now there will be a package_ _in place_ _for you_ _at_ _your present location, in the northernmost blind spot._ _Check the map for your_ _route_ _and where to use the_ _packages_ _._ _Memorise_ _it_ _and destroy this tape immediately._

_-M_

Joanna got to her feet and walked to the northern wall of the pollination room, taking care to appear as casual as possible for the cameras when all she wanted was to break into a sprint. She could hear S9’s soft scuffing footsteps off somewhere to her right. When she got to the other blind spot, she bent and looked along the floor underneath the planters. The concrete was wet from the sprinklers. Behind a stack of unused plant pots was a canvas bag. She dragged it out and opened the flap. A Courser stealth device was nestled inside. Beside it, a pack of explosives and remote detonator, most likely smuggled from the tunnels still under construction below the central vault. She exhaled heavily and raised her Pip-boy to look at the map.

She allowed herself five minutes. Five minutes to scan it over and over again, lips moving as she whispered each detail to herself. The she closed her eyes and ran through it again in her mind. There was an old mnemonic technique she had learned during her detective training to help memorise the layout of crime scenes, and she dug it from the dusty attic of her memory now. She plotted each turn, door and approximate distance onto a mental grid. Once she was confident she had everything in place, she got to her feet and called out to S9.

“Shaun, come on. It’s time to go.”

*

It took her over an hour to navigate the service tunnels, plant the explosives and work her way back. Thankfully Institute technology was more reliable than that on the surface, and the cloaking device had enough battery power to keep her hidden from the cameras along her route. The forged key card opened the few doors she came to. Most of the area was deserted, but occasionally she would hear the metallic _clack clack_ of Gen 1 footsteps approaching along a hallway and would be forced to backtrack to avoid crossing their path. She may be invisible, but the passageways were too narrow for her to pass undetected.

It was a steep climb to her destination, sometimes up narrow flights of stairs and at others no more than a rusting ladder. Dr Volkert’s remedies had taken care of the pain and swelling from Joanna’s injuries, but her body was stiff and weaker than usual from lack of exercise. Her lungs were burning by the time she finally reached a spot where great bunches of rubber-clad cables, each bundle as thick as a man’s waist, emerged from the ceiling. In the lower corridors below her feet they branched in all directions and spun off around the Institute like blood vessels powering a giant beast. She switched off the stealth module so she could see her hands, and strapped the explosives into the midst of the cables with duct tape. Once everything was in order, she made her hasty descent.

Back in the main vault, she ducked into the nearest restroom and hid herself in a stall before de-cloaking. She slumped onto the toilet seat against the partition and let out a long sigh that seemed to go all the way down into her toes. So far, so good. She took the detonator in her hand and flipped the switch.

Nothing happened.

Joanna frowned, checked over the device, and flipped the switch again. Still nothing. No distant rumble, no tremor in the walls. More importantly, not even the faintest flicker in the lights.

 _Shit_.

Surely she was within the necessary range. And she was positive she had set everything up correctly. Perhaps something between here and the tunnels was interfering with the signal. There was no option but to retrace her steps until it worked, and if it didn’t, retrieve the explosives before they were found.

First she should show her face outside so she had an alibi. The stealth module was strapped around her right forearm, and she tugged the sleeve of her tunic down to cover it. It was tight, but hopefully no one would notice. The detonator fit in her pocket. All other evidence was gone; she had tossed the holotape into the incinerator chute before she left BioScience.

She left the stall and washed her hands and face. She was clammy with sweat from nerves and the demanding climb. Back outside, she walked across the middle of the park. It was midday so the area was busy with workers and children reading or talking over lunch. Joanna smiled and greeted the familiar faces as she passed. Her thumb flicked the switch on the detonator in her pocket every few paces. Still nothing. She was contemplating whether to head back to the tunnels or chance a visit to see Madison when she felt eyes upon her. She turned and saw a tall figure in black standing on the steps nearby. X6-88.

She prayed he didn’t spot the flash of guilt that crossed her features, but it was hard to imagine him missing anything. He had been conditioned to watch, to spot weakness, and to swoop in for the kill. Joanna had good reason to be afraid of him. She gave a polite nod in his direction, and he began to approach.

He was halfway to her when it happened. The lights wavered. The fake sky dimmed just like the real one did when a radstorm rolled in, only suddenly. There was a half-second of silence where every figure, human and synth, paused in their movements and looked up, waiting. Then he noise hit. First a low electric groan from all around followed by a series of heavy _thunks_ within the walls as systems powered down. Then the voices, sharp with alarm when the lights failed to return to full brightness. Then the siren. A keening wail sounded from every speaker, shocking the observers into movement. Joanna looked around as people abandoned their lunches and rushed off to workstations or to find colleagues.

She turned back to X6. “What is going on?” she yelled over the scream of the siren. At least her wince at the noise made her confusion seem genuine.

“Power failure,” he replied.

“What? Someone can fix it though, right?”

The Courser simply gave her one last look of deep suspicion before he turned and headed for Shaun’s quarters.

After a moment, she followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 25 COMING VERY SOON!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE SECOND CHAPTER YAY! This was originally part of the previous chapter, but it felt right on its own.

****She sucked in her breath and waited, back pressed flat against the wall. Armed synth striders stood guard just a few feet in front of her. The door beside her slid open with a soft hiss and two people emerged. Alana Secord, Justin Ayo’s second in command, spoke tersely to the other scientist who trailed behind her.

“—told him all along, someone’s going to notice we’re draining more than our share. Not that he ever listens to a damn word...”

The second she could, Joanna darted past them and through the door before it could seal itself again. Her bare feet were silent on the floor. She let out her breath, and took her first look around the Synth Retention Bureau.

As soon as it had become clear the supplementary power supply was suffering more than just a glitch, Shaun had summoned his executive council to the boardroom. All non-essential systems were suspended until the cause of the failure could be determined. That meant synth production had been halted, as had the SRB’s activity, much to Ayo’s spittle-flecked outrage. Most residents had been instructed to return to their homes until the issue could be resolved. The timing provided Joanna with the perfect window of opportunity. She had to hand it to Madison: her planning was impeccable.

Fortunately most of the surveillance network was also down, so now Joanna was inside the Bureau she deactivated the stealth device. She would need the remaining battery power to slip back past the guards.

She padded down the corridor ahead between two windowed rooms, dark now except for the winking lights of a few terminals. The one on her left appeared to be a meeting room; on the right, an armoury. The menacing shapes of firearms lined the racks on the back wall. Further on, the hallway opened out into an open-plan work area. A stairway directly ahead led down into shadow. She steeled herself and began to descend.

The area she stepped out into was gloomy in the weak emergency lighting, but it was clear enough for her to make out the high ceiling and array of curious technology. The floor was as cold and smooth as marble beneath her bare soles as she took a few steps forward. She peered up at the machinery ahead of her. It reminded her strangely of the organ in Iris Mayes’ local church, with its symmetry of towering pipes and ominous, bellowing call to worship. Joanna could almost imagine the same sound issuing from the device above her now. The Institute personnel did have something of a religious fervour, and none less that Justin Ayo. But the only god worshipped here was science. Its messiah, her own son.

Underneath the machine was a low, slanted platform. Huge needles extruded upward from a ridge in the centre. Joanna was tempted to reach out and touch one, but stopped with her arm outstretched. Fairy tales had taught her lessons about pricked fingers and sleeping for a hundred years.

She almost laughed. _Only a hundred?_

This must be it. The extraction device. Having been refused entry to the SRB until now, Joanna did not know its real name, but she had heard its unofficial one muttered under the breath of other workers—synth and human alike—around the Institute. _The Siphon_. The place rogue synths were brought to have their minds and selves erased, whether they had escaped or merely misbehaved. Where sweet S9 came to have his memories of bees, flowers and _Robinson Crusoe_ washed away. The place Shaun came at night to conduct his most secret experiment of all.

As much as Joanna wanted to smash the thing to pieces, the Siphon was not what concerned her now. Along the walls to her left and right, a series of glass pillars stood like giant test tubes. The low light and reflections on the glass made it impossible to see if anything was inside.

Goody had most likely breathed his last in one of these tubes. Madison Li had dug up the truth about the knight’s fate, and when Joanna had heard it, she’d cried for him. Goody had, as Arthur had feared, been milked for information until there was none left to give—at least nothing comprehensible left in the plundered pulp of his brain. Afterwards he had been executed. He hadn’t been a pleasant man, but he had not deserved torture and violation at Justin Ayo’s hands. Joanna counted it a small mercy that the FEV lab was no more, otherwise he may have found himself experimented upon further. Mutated into one of the abominations he had been taught to despise.

Her gut twisted. That was the same horror Danse now faced.

She went over to the tubes on her right. The first two were empty. In the third was a female figure wearing weathered wasteland clothes. She was on her feet, head and arms hanging limply. Unconscious. Her hair hung in greasy strands across her face. She could have been any ordinary settler from any Commonwealth town. A trader or a farmer; a wife; a friend.

She turned and crossed the room. In the tube closest to the Siphon, she found him.

Danse sat on the floor with his knees pulled up close to his body. His head rested on his arms. His uniform had been taken from him, leaving him dressed in only his t-shirt and underwear.

“Danse?” she said. Her voice came out small and weak like a child’s. She crouched beside the tube. There were streaks of red on the inside of the glass. She looked closer; his knuckles were dark with congealed blood. “Danse, it’s me. It’s Mayes.”

He lifted his head slowly and looked at her, as though the name rang a distant bell. Joanna had never wished to see such devastation on the face of someone she cared about. He looked the way she had felt the day she awoke to find everything she had ever known and loved was gone.

“Mayes,” he said.

“Yes. I’m going to help you.”

He looked her over distantly. “You’re dressed like them,” he said.

“I’ve had to blend in.” she said. “God, Danse, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He made a sound that could have been a laugh if it weren’t so bleak. He looked back at his knees.

“Do you know what they told me?”

Joanna swallowed hard. “That you’re a synth.”

He nodded. “Is it true?”

She thought of the photographs on the holotape. Her voice threatened to crack when she answered. “Yes.”

“You knew?”

“Only since this morning. I saw the Courser bring you in.” She ran her eyes over him again, more carefully now. His shirt was marked with blood, though not as much as she remembered seeing on his uniform. “Where are you hurt? You were bleeding when he brought you in.”

Danse shook his head. His voice shook, too, when he spoke. “Wasn’t my blood. It was—” His face crumpled as the words failed him.

“Who? Danse, please. I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Preston,” he whispered.

She clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that erupted. As soon as she dared, she spoke from between her fingers. “Was he—Is he—”

“He was hit,” Danse gasped. “In the chest. I tried to get him to safety, but the Courser got to me, and… that’s all I remember.”

“Was he alive when you last saw him?” Her hands pressed against the glass. “Danse! _Was he alive?_ ”

“I don’t know. He was badly injured.”

“Was anyone else with you?”

“No. We were in the garage. I was prepping my armour. It all happened too fast for anyone to get to us. It’s all because of me, he was hurt because of _me_.”

“Danse, please, don’t. None of this is your fault.”

“Of course it is. You know what I am. I shouldn’t even exist.”

“Stop it,” she insisted. “It is not your fault. It’s mine. I should have found another way. I shouldn’t have involved the two of you.” Her vision blurred and her voice shook. “I’m so sorry, I’ve made such a mess of things...”

Danse reached out and placed his palm against the wall between them. “What I am isn’t your fault.”

 _No_ , she thought. _It’s my son’s._ She pressed her hand to the shape of his. “I’m going to get you out of here,” she told him. “I promise you.”

“No, you’re not,” Danse said.

“Of course I will. I can do it, just not right away. But as soon as—”

“Mayes,” he said firmly. “I’m telling you not to.”

“What?”

His voice, that lovely low rumble she had grown so accustomed to, was quiet yet clear. “All I need you to do is get me a weapon. A pistol, knife, anything. Something small you can toss in here.” He gestured up at the open top of the tube.

“What are you talking about? You can’t fight them.” But even as the words tumbled from her mouth, the realisation of what he was saying hit her like ice water. “Wait, no. Danse, god, _no_ , don’t even say that. I am not going to let you—”

“It’s what I have to do.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“ _Knight_. I am a Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel. But I’m also a synth. I’m the enemy. I can’t be allowed to live. It goes against everything I believe in. Everything I’ve ever been taught. I’m an abomination of science, and need to be destroyed.”

“Don’t you dare talk like that. The Brotherhood only taught you to hate synths because they don’t understand the first thing about them. But I do. I’ve only been here a few days, but I have seen how they’re made. I’ve watched how they behave. And synths are not robots, or machines. They are human beings who are just… built in a different way. You have to believe me. Even the scientists here can’t convince themselves synths don’t have a soul.”

“You sound as though you’re on their side,” he said, shaking his head.

“Did you hear my message?” she demanded. He nodded. “Then you know that’s not true. The synth program needs to be stopped, and I know that better than any of you after the things I’ve seen. But synths are the victims here. Not the weapons. You’re proof of that. You escaped, Danse.”

His face clouded with confusion.

“I found out what happened to you. Where you came from. You were made here twenty years ago. A few years after that, you escaped. Someone on the outside must have erased your memories and given you new ones. They helped you get out of the Commonwealth and start over.” She paused to let him digest her words. “I know your life hasn’t all been what you thought it was. But those last fourteen years, everything that happened to you was real. The Brotherhood. Cutler. The Commonwealth, me, Preston. Everything you are, everything you’ve become, is real. And you are the kind of man this world needs, Danse. _I_ need you.”

He watched her with uncertainty and sadness in his dark eyes. “Arthur will never allow me to live,” he said at last.

Joanna bit down hard on her lip. That was a battle she would have to fight once she finally got out of here. “Arthur doesn’t know,” she told him. “And I see no reason why he has to.”

Danse understood. He nodded vaguely, and offered her a tiny smile. “I’ll still know.”

“Yeah, you will. And I know it hurts. But please, please just hang in there until I can get you out. We’ll work out the rest then.”

Danse leaned back against the wall of his tiny cell. He looked past her at the Siphon. “And when they put me in that thing?”

“They won’t. I took out the auxiliary power they’re leeching from the surface. They won’t have full power again until the new generator is activated. And I have plans where that’s concerned, too.”

Danse managed to find another smile, but it was so sad it broke her heart. “How do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

He rolled his shoulder in a shrug. “Saving everyone,” he said. “You never give up.”

She thought back to her first hours in the Institute. She had given up, for a time. And Danse had been one of the people who had picked her up again, without even knowing it.

“I do it for the people I care about,” she said. “I do it for my family.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra special thanks here to tess1978 for coming up with the name for the Siphon.
> 
> God, I'm so sorry for the onslaught of feels. ;__; Things are gonna start turning around in the next part! THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND BEING AMAZING! Please know that I love and appreciate every one of you even if I don't reply. You are the reason I am posting this at 4:30 am like a crazy person!! <3


	26. Chapter 26

****_A worn pair of j_ _eans_ , Joanna thought as she tugged her bootlaces tight.

A couple of beers, chilled in the river.

Sunset.

An old blues record on the radio. Better yet, real people singing as they worked. There wasn’t a lot of singing in the Institute.

These were the things she promised herself as she dressed and prepared for her excursion. Little things to indulge in once this was over. They weren’t the things she wanted the most, but she dared not think of those. The faces she most longed to see. There was no guarantee she would ever be seeing them again. So she focused on small pleasures. Codsworth’s bad jokes. The first sip of Gwinnett as she kicked her bare feet up onto the cushions of her sagging couch. It kept her from making herself sick with worry over what was happening right now, far above her head.

She finished tying her boots and got up from the bed. She pulled on the Institute tunic over Arthur’s t-shirt and fastened it closed, then picked up her Pip-boy and took a last look around. Aside from the crumpled bedsheets, she had left barely a trace on the room. There was a scrap of paper on the table. She picked it up, took one last look at it, and then flushed it down the toilet.

*

Leaving Danse in that tube had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but perversely, it was safer for him there than anywhere else. She had no way to free him and sneak him out of SRB. Even if she had, she couldn’t get him to the relay, and there was nowhere she could have hidden him where he would not be at risk of being found. He would either be returned to Justin Ayo’s clutches or killed on sight if he was caught. She had to trust that Shaun would keep the Bureau powered down while she was gone. Madison would take care of it.

Even so, she hated herself for leaving him there, so desperately alone.

X6-88 was as silent and foreboding as ever as they rode the elevator up through the atrium. It was still afternoon, a time when the fake sky would normally be bright, but after the power failure it had been dimmed to conserve energy. The early dusk wasn’t as disorienting as it could have been. It had been a very long day. _Ten_ long days. Joanna was exhausted from tension.

A crowd awaited them in the relay control room. Most were synths: a unit of a dozen or so armoured Generation 1 infantry stood in neat rows while a Robotics technician checked them over. A pair of Coursers waited near the entrance to the relay. Their presence sharpened Joanna’s anxiety. What the hell was she supposed to do with _three_ Coursers? It would be tricky enough dealing with one.

Two scientists sat at the main relay console, tapping away at the controls. Shaun and Madison Li were nearby. They spoke in low tones with a third person whom Joanna recognised by the back of his balding head. Justin Ayo. And over by the wall, Nathan Filmore was helping his wife into her radiation suit. Joanna headed over to the couple.

“Stop fussing, Nathan,” Allie scolded her husband gently, tugging a sleeve from his grasp so she could wriggle her arm into it.

“I’m just checking the seals,” he said.

Joanna greeted them and took a folded rad suit from the rack.

“What’s with all the extra company?” she asked Allie.

“The synths? They’re not for us. They’re on stand by for the airport. I hear there’s quite the fire fight going on down there.”

Joanna nodded. The answer gave her no relief. She sat down to pull the suit on over her boots, hoping no one could see her hands shaking.

“All ready for our expedition?” Allie asked her. She seemed nervous, but there was also a gleam in her eye that Joanna had come to recognise.

“Absolutely,” Joanna replied.

Across the room, Justin Ayo’s voice rose in temper. “May I speak my mind frankly, Father?”

Madison spoke next. “It’s not like you to ask first.”

“I have serious reservations concerning your... _guest_.”

Joanna froze. Either Ayo didn’t think she could hear, or he didn’t care that she could.

“Go on,” Shaun said frostily.

“You may think it a coincidence that Kendall was attacked the day after your mother was allowed up to the surface, but—”

“Be very careful, Justin,” Shaun said.

Joanna didn’t hear what was said next, but Ayo’s words were echoing around her head. She leaned towards Allie Filmore.

“Did I hear him say _Kendall_?”

“Yes. There was an explosion at the hospital,” Allie said. “Took out all three of the damned generators we were leeching power from. I _told_ them it wasn’t my system at fault.”

“My god.” Joanna’s astonishment was genuine.

This meant two things. First, her bomb really hadn’t gone off. No wonder she hadn’t felt the earth move, so to speak. But second, and far more important to her at this moment, it meant that her messages may have gotten through after all. Her heart skipped hopefully.

“Do they know what happened?”

“No. Coursers went up to take a look, but the place was just a shell. In all likelihood it was raiders playing catch with hand grenades, or something equally idiotic. The place has been riddled with those savages for years. Justin’s convinced it was sabotage, of course.”

“He does love a good conspiracy theory,” Nathan chipped in, and Allie rolled her eyes in agreement.

Joanna simply smiled and stood to wriggle the suit up over her legs and arms.

“My decision is final,” Shaun said. “X6-88 will escort them. He is more than capable. And so, I might add, is my mother. If they need assistance, X6 will communicate that fact immediately. But until then I will not have the relay use up any more power than necessary.”

“Surely the whole point of this trip is to restore us to full power?” Ayo countered.

“We’ve gone over this, Justin,” Allie said as she strolled towards them. “Even when I have the agitator, it could take another twenty-four hours to have the new reactor up and running. We’re going in ahead of our projected timetable. It’ll take more than the flick of a switch.”

Madison looked at the man with unveiled irritation. There was no love lost between the two. “You’re not the only one impatient to get back to work, Dr Ayo.”

Ayo muttered something and turned to leave. On his way out, he paused to speak quietly to X6-88, who lingered near the door. Joanna saw the glance Ayo shot at her before he disappeared back towards the elevator. She steeled herself with a deep breath and strapped her Pip-boy on over her glove. When she looked up, Shaun was standing before her.

He smiled. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Not quite,” said the technician who stepped forward with an armful of hardware.

He helped Joanna to gear up with a laser pistol, holstered to her thigh, and a relay module that strapped to her right wrist. Collars like the one X6 had placed on her that first night were generally only used on captured synths. The more esteemed human members of the Institute got to wear this more tasteful version. Her fingers twitched to reach for the pistol, not to fire it but to feel the reassuring weight in her hands. It was the first time she’d been armed since before her arrival.

“Please be careful,” Nathan Filmore was telling Allie. “Let the Courser do all the hard work.”

Allie’s helmet was on, so she reached up and patted his face with her gloved hand. She hefted a large black case in the other hand. “I’ll be back soon. Make sure Quentin is doing his homework. Just because the power’s down doesn’t make it a holiday.”

Joanna faced Shaun. “Wish me luck,” she said.

“I don’t believe in luck,” he replied. “Only good odds. And ours are excellent, especially now we have you with us.”

She felt a stab of guilt as she looked over his lined features. Her son. Placing his hard-won trust in her. She stepped closer and embraced him. Her eye caught Dr Li’s over his shoulder. Madison tipped her head in a small nod.

“I’ll see you soon,” Joanna said, and pulled on her helmet.

Allie mimed blowing a kiss to her husband, and waved to the others assembled before striding into the relay chamber. Joanna followed. She turned to Shaun and Madison and raised her own hand in a goodbye gesture.

“See you on the other side,” she said.

*

They appeared in a crackle and blinding flash on the open rooftop. Joanna stayed on her feet this time, though her vision was obscured by a jagged after-image. A chill wind whipped around the building. She was already sweating under her rad suit, and the wind pressed the clammy plastic against her skin.

As soon as she could orient herself, she hastened to the edge of the building. Her head swam as she realised how high they were. No other landmark stood as tall. She truly felt as though she was scraping the sky. She quickly turned to locate the south-east. What she saw made her heart drop into her toes.

Plumes of thick black smoke churned up from the airport. She stared in horror at the billowing clouds. When the smoke parted it revealed only empty sky. The Prydwen was… gone.

“No,” she gasped, the word snatched away by the wind. What had she allowed to happen? The base had been the target, not the ship. All those people on board, men and women, squires…

_Arthur._

She felt sick. This couldn’t have all been for nothing. She refused to accept that.

“Wow,” Allie exclaimed at her side. Joanna turned quickly to see her. X6 waited close by with his weapon in his hands. “Looks like the Brotherhood have their hands full.”

Jo swallowed bile. “I guess so.”

Allie went on talking, oblivious to how close she had just come to being shoved over the edge. “When I’ve been on the surface before I was just scavenging parts from old factories. But seeing the city from above… It’s actually rather impressive.”

All Joanna could see was the smoke. “It’s not what it used to be.”

“Dr Filmore,” X6 spoke up. “If we may continue.”

“Yes, of course,” Allie replied. “Let’s get this done.”

Joanna persisted by the railing for a few seconds longer, eyes searching desperately along the coastline. The drift of smoke had made the sky hazy and the view indistinct. Just as she was dragging herself away, sunlight broke through clouds and caught on something further to the east. The gleam caught her eye. Hanging in the air above the distant blur of Fort Strong was a long, silver balloon.

Her heart soared again as though caught on the wind. She wanted to stop and stare, but X6 was calling to her, so she followed him inside.

*

“Ah- _ha!_ ” Allie called out.

Joanna turned to see the woman squat down beside an upturned desk and stick a hand in amongst a pile of bones on the floor. She fished something out from between the ribs and held it up for Joanna to see. A plastic key card.

“Nice work,” Joanna said, though it pained her as it always did to see human remains treated with so little dignity. To those around her, the bones littering the wasteland were fragments of a distant past. But to Joanna, the employee who now lay in the ruins of his workplace could have been someone she’d once queued behind in the grocery store. Sat beside in a coffee shop. Honked her horn at in slow traffic.

She finished scanning through the messages on the working terminal they had found. “As far as I can tell, it should give us access to the reactor, too,” she said.

X6-88 stood watch by a doorway, rifle at the ready, conveniently leaving the more tedious detective work to the two women. He followed them to the elevator in silence.

“Let’s see if this works,” Allie muttered, and swiped the card in the slot.

Nothing.

“Give it a wipe,” Joanna suggested. “It’s probably filthy.”

Allie rubbed the card against the material of her suit, and rubbed her finger over the reader. She tried it again, and a green light came on, dimmed by a thick layer of grime.

She made a sound of triumph and turned to Joanna. “Success!”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Joanna said. “It’s a hell of a long way down.”

The glass capsule groaned into life, shuddering violently as it began to descend. After a moment the movement became smoother, and Joanna and Allie sighed with relief from within their alien-looking suits.

X6 watched each floor pass by. He looked both alert and thoroughly bored. Dr Filmore, on the other hand, seemed to be rather enjoying herself.

Joanna thought that she may have something to do with that. Allie had been curious about the surface since they had first met, and despite viewing it as her peers did with a wariness bordering on superstition, she had seemed almost envious of the experiences Joanna had recounted to her. She had talked about coming to Mass Fusion with a spark of excitement in her eye.

Joanna found it irritating. Allie had a kind husband and a happy, healthy child; things that Joanna would kill to get back. But she could understand it, too. The woman had lived her whole life under the ground with the same three hundred people, doing the same job day in and day out. She secretly longed for an adventure.

She was about to get what she wished for.

The elevator sank lower and lower. Some of the floors had collapsed. Every one was abandoned, though some showed traces of recent occupation: Gunner and raider insignia daubed on walls, floors strewn with empty bottles and other debris. There was more junk the closer they got to the ground.

The doors slid open and they stepped out into the deserted lobby.

“Ugh,” Allie groaned. “What is that _stench?_ ”

Joanna grimaced. Their masks couldn’t filter out the reek of human waste and rotten flesh. “Not much in the way of working plumbing up here,” she replied. “Or body disposal,” she added, sidestepping the bloated corpse of a mongrel.

“How does anyone tolerate it?” Allie wondered. She held up her blocky pistol as they crossed the foyer, as though it might offer some protection against the filth.

Somewhere outside, a rattle of gunfire sounded, followed by a roar that was most likely a super mutant. This was a bad neighbourhood.

“Let’s move,” X6 said, and they hurried on.

The key card granted them access to a second, smaller elevator at the back of the building. The three of them had to squeeze in tighter here, and the light had long since failed, so it felt rather like being crammed in a closet for a particularly awkward game of _Seven Minutes in Heaven_. Joanna’s Pip-boy knocked against the wall, and it rang with a dull metallic _clang_.

They followed steps down, and passed through an office area into a large laboratory. The reactor was beyond in a chamber that must have stood three storeys high. Dr Filmore let out an awed sigh as she stood at the window overlooking it.

“This could have powered half the city,” she said.

Joanna was more concerned with getting in and out safely. The walkways inside were rusted and broken, and the floor was flooded.

“It’s dangerous in there,” she said.

“Yeah,” Allie replied. “The rads’ll be off the charts.” Her face was obscured inside her suit, but her body was visibly tense.

“It’s all right,” Joanna said. “I’ll go. Just tell me what I have to do.”

“No,” Allie said. “We’ll go together.”

“We _all_ go,” X6 said, and Joanna jumped. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Automated turrets.”

She followed the line of his gaze and saw metal domes clinging like limpets to the ceiling above the reactor.

“There are more out here,” the Courser went on. “They’ll trigger when the reactor is tampered with. I’ll deal with them.”

The prospect of being shot as well as irradiated and possibly falling to her death did little to calm Allie’s nerves, but the working decontamination airlock was welcome. They headed through it to the reactor. The geiger counter on Joanna’s Pip-boy crackled as she and Filmore inched along the swaying walkway. At one point it sank a few inches under their feet, causing Allie to yelp and grab Joanna’s arm. When they made it to the reactor unharmed, she laughed nervously and set to work opening the core. Joanna watched the ceiling, pistol raised.

“Come on,” Allie murmured to herself as she eased the beryllium agitator from its slot.

As she hefted the cylinder against her chest, the turrets awoke. Joanna and X6-88 made short work of them while Allie laid her new toy inside the padded lining of the case. Back in the airlock, it became clear they had graver concerns. A sentry bot and assaultron had activated in the lab and were bearing down on them.

“Call in support!” Allie yelled.

Joanna thought she saw X6 frown behind his dark glasses. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “Stay down.”

Joanna and Allie slid to the ground out of sight. The arches above them rained down spray onto their suits as X6 slipped into stealth mode and vanished. A moment later, the sound of laser fire joined the pounding of heavy guns thundering around the next room. The noise was staggering, especially after the clinical calm of the Institute.

Something exploded with a deafening clamour, and eventually the lab grew quiet until the only sound left was the ringing in Joanna’s ears. She shuffled along the floor on her hands and knees and peered out to check the coast was clear. X6-88 stood near the wreckage of the sentry bot. He was breathing harder than usual, but otherwise unperturbed. She got up and headed towards him.

“Well,” Allie sighed behind her, clambering to her feet. She clutched the case in both arms. “I’m certainly due a stiff drink after that. Can we relay from here?”

“Negative,” X6 replied. “The reactor interferes with the signal. We’ll relay from the lobby.”

Joanna nodded. “Lead the way.”

They crowded back into the elevator. Joanna switched on the light on her Pip-boy as the doors rolled closed. She had twenty or thirty seconds before the elevator reached the ground floor.

 _Do it_ , she thought. _Do it now._

“X6-88,” she said. Her pulse quickened.

The Courser turned to her. He looked eerie in the green glow. “Ma’am.”

“Initialise factory reset—” The moment the words left her lips, his face changed, and for the first time she saw true emotion on his features. Dismay; perhaps even fear. He raised his weapon. Joanna flinched as she blurted the rest: “ _Sigma-seven-_ _two_ _-monsoon_.”

X6 toppled to the ground with his forward momentum. His shoulder struck Joanna in the side as he fell, and she staggered and hit the wall. Only then did Allie react. She stared at the body on the floor. Joanna imagined her mouth hanging open in shock inside her protective head gear.

“What did you do?!” Allie whimpered.

“I’m sorry, I had to.” Joanna leaned over and quickly took the pistol from the other woman’s thigh holster. Allie was too stunned to even notice. Joanna tucked the gun under her arm and crouched down to retrieve X6’s rifle. As she stood, Allie shrank back against the wall.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I need you to trust me.” The elevator slowed to a halt. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You have my word on that.” She moved closer to the doors in case Allie tried to bolt.

“Your word?” The woman’s voice was small and fragile. “What have you done? Was this—Did you _plan_ this? Oh, _shit_ , Justin was right about you—”

“We need to get moving,” Joanna told her as calmly as she could. “I can explain to you later, but right now, if you want to stay safe, come with me.”

The doors opened and she backed out. She nodded to Allie to follow. The rifle in her hands wasn’t raised, but it was enough of a threat for the other woman to stumble out into the hallway after her without argument. She almost tripped on X6’s prone leg on her way.

“Head to the lobby,” Joanna said. “We’re going back up to the roof.”

Dr Filmore turned hesitantly and stepped through the doorway. “Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Joanna glanced back at X6 before she followed. She had been assured that the reset would leave him shut down for at least two hours. Even so, it made her nervous to leave him there.

Allie stayed as far from her as she could on the ride up to the executive suite.

“What is it that you want?” she asked. When Joanna didn’t reply, she grew impatient. “The explosion at Kendall. I suppose you orchestrated that? Why? Father—Shaun—he’s your _son._ How could you betray him like this, after everything he’s done for you? Everything he’s done for the _entire human race?_ ”

Joanna had to bite her tongue. “I told you, I’ll explain later. For now, please try to stay calm. You’re not in any danger.”

“Fuck you.”

She couldn’t blame the woman for being upset, but she was wary that in her current state, emboldened by anger and a taste of action, Allie may try something foolish.

“Please don’t forget that I’m not the only one who has a son inside the Institute,” she said.

It was a low blow, but it had the desired effect. Allie froze. She remained silent and cowed for the rest of the ascent.

The shriek of wind through open doorways greeted them as they stepped out into the executive suite. This time, another sound pulsed underneath it. A rhythmic whipping noise. Vertibird blades.

“Outside,” she urged.

Allie stumbled across the uneven floor ahead of them and out onto the roof. Joanna watched the woman look around her in alarm; a moment later, she stepped outside and into the laser sights of three Brotherhood soldiers. Two were in power armour. The third wore a pilot’s uniform. Joanna recognised her from the day Arthur had visited Sanctuary. The Vertibird squatted nearby like a giant bug, blades beating the air.

A knight stepped forward. His voice crackled through the speaker in his helmet.

“Identify yourself.”

Joanna dropped her guns on the ground and fumbled with the helmet on her suit. The wind whipped her hair across her face as it came off.

“I’m General Joanna Mayes,” she called out, pushing the locks clear of her eyes. “And I’m on your side.”

“Mayes,” the second soldier said. He lowered his gun. “Good to see you safe. It’s Rhys.”

“Rhys?” She grinned wide, shaking her head. “God, you have no idea how good it is to see you.”

“I’m Senior Knight Muñez,” the first man said. “This is Lancer Hirsch, and I guess you already know Rhys. It’s just the two of you?”

“There’s a Courser down in the lobby. He’s deactivated right now, but he needs to be retrieved as soon as possible.” Joanna gestured to Allie. “This is Dr Filmore of the Institute. She’s our guest. She’s done nothing wrong, so please, treat her with respect.”

“Respect?” Allie echoed in a shaking voice. “You think betraying me and taking me prisoner is _respect_?”

It would be pointless to argue, so Joanna didn’t try. Muñez turned to speak to Hirsch, and Rhys stepped closer to Joanna.

“Did you see Danse down there?” he asked. Even through his helmet she could hear the fear in his voice.

She nodded. “They have him,” she said. “But he’s alive, and they won’t hurt him for now. I’m going to get him out. I swear it.”

“Those mother _fuckers_ ,” Rhys muttered.

Hirsch led their new captive away to the Vertibird, and Muñez turned to Joanna.

“Where’s the Courser?”

“First floor, in the elevator at the back of the lobby,” Joanna said. “But wait. What happened today, at the airport? Was anyone hurt?”

“Synths tore the place up pretty good,” Muñez told her. “It’s too soon to know about casualties. I saw a couple folks injured. Coulda been a lot worse, though, if we hadn’t had warning. Seems we have you to thank for that.”

“So... Elder Maxson?”

“He’s just fine.”

A tight knot inside her unravelled at his words. “He—You’re absolutely sure?”

Rhys gave a gruff laugh. “See for yourself,” he said, and pointed out at the sky. “This’ll be him now.”

Joanna turned to see a second Vertibird soaring in from the direction of the Prydwen. She couldn’t tear her gaze away as it approached, though she was dimly aware that Muñez was still talking. It seemed to take forever for the aircraft to reach them. She strained to see who was inside, but the damn wind swept her hair into her face and made her eyes water.

There was no space for the second craft to land on the roof. It hovered as low as possible, and a lone figure leapt down from the open cargo door. A man, dressed in a brown leather coat. A man who moved towards Joanna with a look of almost crazed disbelief. Even as her vision blurred his edges, there was no more beautiful sight she could have laid eyes on.

She let out a short cry that was half laugh, half sob, and ran at him as the Vertibird took off back towards the coast. His arms opened and she threw herself into them, flinging her own around his neck. Arthur crushed her against him with a gasp of relief. Her toes left the ground as he squeezed her in his huge arms, and she pressed her face into his neck and breathed him in. His smell flooded her senses. His beard rubbed her cheek. His voice flowed into her ear as he poured out words.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re home now.”

Eventually they remembered they had an audience, and Arthur released her enough to look around at his men.

“Get ready to move out.” His voice was rough.

“Hirsch is with the doctor, sir,” Muñez told him. “Rhys and I are heading down to recover the Courser.”

“The Courser is my prisoner,” Joanna said. “I don’t want him harmed.”

“You kidding me? He’ll zap out of any cell we toss him in the second he wakes up,” Rhys argued.

“No. Not if we take him on board the Prydwen.” She looked at Arthur. He frowned in confusion. “He can’t teleport from there. The relay signal doesn’t work when he’s surrounded by metal. His comm link shouldn’t either. That’s why I shut him down in the elevator car.”

Arthur searched her face for a moment, then nodded to Muñez. “Bring him up.”

“Aye, sir.” They stomped away into the building.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Please trust me.”

“I trust you with my life. And the lives of my soldiers. You saved a lot of them today.”

“Preston,” she blurted out. “Have you heard from him?”

“He’s safe,” Arthur assured her. “He’s on the Prydwen.”

She stared at him, sure she must have misheard with the rush of the wind in her ears. “What?”

“He’s in the sick bay. He was wounded, but Cade patched him up. You can see him as soon as we get back.”

“Oh thank god,” she breathed. “When Danse told me—”

“Danse is alive?”

“Yes. He’s still inside, I couldn’t get him out. I’m so sorry.”

Arthur nodded, the relief clear on his own features. “We’ll bring him home.”

No one could see them now, so she slid her arms back around his neck. “Shouldn’t you be at the airport with your men? You didn’t need to come here.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Of course I did,” he said.

Of course he had come. He was her Arthur; her king in shining armour. He took her face in his hands, and he kissed her.

Joanna felt weightless. She knew they had more battles ahead of them, and that this moment would be over only too soon, but for now she savoured every second of his lips on hers. She drank him in as though his kiss gave her life.

Finally she let him go so she could look at him again. He looked so tired. The shadows under his eyes were deeper and darker than before, and his beard was thick and unkempt, but when he smiled it was like seeing the sun again.His thumbs brushed under her eyes.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” she argued, just as fresh tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She laughed. “I’m just so—I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

He dragged her close and kissed her again.

A polite cough startled them. They begrudgingly broke apart and turned to see Knight Rhys standing a little distance away. Joanna hadn’t known it was possible for someone to look that awkward while wearing a full suit of power armour.

“Uh, apologies, sir,” he called out. “Knight. But uh, we can’t activate the elevator.”

“Shit, that’s right,” Joanna mumbled, blushing scarlet. She slid the key card out from where she had tucked it under her Pip-boy and passed it to him.

Rhys disappeared as fast as his T-60 could carry him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crappy health kept me from finishing this sooner, but I hope it's worth the wait. ^_^ I was DYING to get these two back together!! But stupid real life conspired to get in my way. 
> 
> More questions will be answered in the next part. For now, enjoy loved-up smoochy Jo and Max! <3 And as always, thank you for reading, commenting and kudos-ing.


	27. Chapter 27

****The Elder’s quarters smelled just the way she remembered them. Cigar smoke and clean bed linen. A hint of warm liquor. These luxurious fragrances overlaid the oily, metallic scent that pervaded the halls of the airship and made it smell like the inside of a munitions crate.

Joanna stood in the centre of the room and ran her fingertips along the rim of the table. Once upon a time Arthur had proposed to her as she sat here. Since then they had fought at this table, and kissed. She smiled.

She walked the room slowly, touching everything, trailing her fingers along each shelf and the books with their corners worn soft lined up along them. Over Arthur’s desk, his terminal, the sheets tucked crisply around his mattress. His room was sparse and functional, but there were items here and there that hinted at stories she wanted to learn. A pocket watch with cracked glass. A tin box that had long ago contained cough lozenges and now held scissors and a razor wrapped in a soft cloth. A toy car, almost bare of paint. The titles of the books themselves: _The American Civil War, Warriors of Medieval Japan, The Fall of the Roman Empire._ Mismatched volumes from two or three different encyclopedias. The empty bottles and brimming ashtray didn’t escape her notice, either.

She eased open a drawer in his dresser and touched the clothes inside. Neatly folded shirts, socks, underwear. Her lover’s things.

There was a rap on the door and she jumped back. She shoved the drawer closed again.

“Come in.”

A scribe entered with clean clothing, soap and towels. Joanna thanked the young woman, who gave her a smile and an odd little bow before she left.

The mood among the Brotherhood today was one of urgency but also triumph. They had survived what should have been a devastating attack. As Shaun had planned, a small synth army had launched a sudden strike that afternoon, targeting the airport’s arms and food stores with heavy weaponry. The Prydwen may be out of the range of Institute weapons and the molecular relay, but by crippling and starving the Brotherhood forces, Father’s children could be assured an easy victory when the time came. They would simultaneously use the diversion to steal into Mass Fusion and snatch the power core needed to fuel their new generator, and isolate them from the surface once and for all.

Had it not been for Joanna’s message, hastily recorded on a holotape and smuggled in the lining of a coat, the Brotherhood would never have seen it coming. Casualties were minimised because of that tape. The enemy’s shells had fallen on empty buildings. The bulk of the army’s supplies had been safely stashed aboard the airship or in the underground levels of the airport throughout the morning.

The Prydwen was running on a skeleton crew while most staff were dealing with the situation on the ground, but even so, several people had greeted Joanna warmly with handshakes or salutes since she boarded. A couple had even called her _Ma’am_ instead of _Knight_. She was used to that treatment at the Castle and some of the settlements, but it was peculiar to experience it aboard the airship where until now she had either passed unnoticed, just another recruit working her way up the ladder, or earned suspicion for her closeness with the Minutemen or the special attention she received from their beloved Elder.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took off her boots and socks. The rad suit had come off during the Vertibird ride over; she couldn’t stand the feel of the thing against her skin for another second. The Institute tunic had followed once she was aboard the ship. She eyed the soap and towels. A shower would feel good, but after a long day spent riding on nervous energy, she felt so heavy with tiredness and relief she could hardly bear to stand any longer.

She lay down on Arthur’s bed for the first time. It was broader than the bunks in the communal quarters, and more comfortable, though firm. She pulled his pillow close and breathed in deeply. The sheets had been changed that morning, but Arthur’s scent was unmistakeable beneath the tang of detergent. She smiled again, embarrassed by how it made her heart flutter to picture him lying here, his body bare between the sheets. How often had he lain here thinking of her? Surely he had in the last ten days. And before that? Before they had ever touched, before they had kissed?

She was asleep a minute later, face pressed into his pillow, thinking of Arthur thinking of her.

*

For the first few seconds when she awoke she thought she was still in the Institute. That the rumble around her was the workings within the walls. But the noise was the groan of the Prydwen’s engines high above the ground, not under it. And there was someone in the room with her.

She turned over as Arthur was switching off the overhead light. The softer glow of the desk lamp lit the room. He saw her and smiled.

“Hi.” Joanna pushed herself up onto one elbow. “How long was I asleep?”

“Half an hour, maybe.” He came and sat beside her on the bed. “It’s all right. Go back to sleep. It’ll be a couple of hours before I can gather everyone for a briefing.”

The thought of more sleep was alluring, especially if he could be convinced to join her, but it could wait. “No, I’ll sleep later.”

Arthur reached out and stroked her hair. “Did you see Preston?”

He had wanted her to rest as soon as they were back on the ship, but she’d insisted on calling at the sick bay first. The sight of her friend’s chest rising and falling as he continued to breathe had brought her an intense relief. It still shook her to see him hurt, though. The Courser had shot Preston on his left side, a few inches below the clavicle. By some miracle the laser had struck his radio receiver. The resulting shrapnel had caused heavy bleeding, but without the radio in the way he would have had a hole seared right through his heart. Instead his chest was scarred and burned and he’d be in pain, but his life was not in danger.

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s still knocked out by Med-X, though. The scribe told me he’s gonna be fine, and he should be awake later. I’m hoping he can join us.”

Arthur nodded. “He was in a bad way this morning when Hirsch flew him in from Cambridge.” He smiled. “But he refused to pass out until he’d handed me your holotape in person. He even shook Cade off when he tried to step in. Said he didn’t have time to bleed.”

Joanna grinned. “That’s my Preston. Braver than he ever gives himself credit for.” She sat up and tucked one foot under her. “Are the guests all set up for the night?”

Arthur had gone with Muñez and Rhys to see that the prisoners were dealt with appropriately. They had arranged a comfortable private room for Allie. X6-88, meanwhile, was destined for a small holding cell in the lower cargo deck. Steel within steel would ensure he could not slip through their fingers once he awoke.

“Yes,” he said. “Doctor Filmore was very distraught, so I had a scribe sedate her. The synth, on the other hand… Well, it woke up. After we’d restrained it, fortunately.”

“And?”

He glanced at her, but didn’t speak. Joanna noticed the way he was flexing the fingers of his right hand. She grabbed it and tilted it to catch the light. His knuckles were red, starting to bruise.

“I told you he wasn’t to be harmed,” she said. “Arthur. What did you do?”

“I didn’t kill it,” he said. “And believe me, that took great restraint.”

“So you just used him as a punching bag?”

Arthur pulled his hand away and got to his feet.

“I told you X6 is my prisoner. The Minutemen’s, not yours.”

“That thing abducted you,” Arthur replied, turning to her with a stormy expression. “It slaughtered your guards. You should be glad it’s still breathing. And as long as it’s being held in a Brotherhood cell, it is a prisoner of the Brotherhood. It certainly had plenty to say about us.”

She looked up sharply. “Such as?”

He shook his head in distaste. “Trying to sow mistrust. Accusing my men of being synth agents.”

Joanna rubbed her temples and grimaced. The pulse of a headache was beginning between her eyes. She should have realised it was foolish to hope she could keep the truth about Danse from him, not with two Institute agents under his watchful eye. It would only be a matter of time before he realised it was true, and learned the truth about her son, too.

She got to her feet. “This is why I should have come with you. You don’t understand anything yet. You wanted to lash out, so instead of listening to me, you beat on an unarmed man.”

“It’s not a _man_ , Joanna, it’s a synth assassin,” he barked. “And it took you from me.”

His voice faltered on the last words. Joanna looked into his eyes, darkly shadowed from sleeplessness. She understood his rage. Of course she did. Kellogg had stolen Nate from her, and she had taken pleasure in causing him pain in his last moments. But vengeance would get them nowhere.

She stepped closer and took Arthur’s hand. “And now I’m back,” she said. She ran her fingers over his swollen knuckles before kissing them softly. “I know you’re angry. But before you act on it, you need to hear everything I have to tell you. You don’t know the half of it, Arthur. What I saw down there, what I’ve learned... There are things you’re not going to like to hear. Things that are very difficult to accept. But I need you to listen before you make up your mind. Will you please do that for me?”

Arthur raised his other hand and slid his fingers through her hair. He sighed. “Of course.”

“Kiss me first?”

He did, slowly and deeply and so sweetly that she ached. She longed to pull him into bed so he could make her forget about everything. Later, she would. But first she had to relive what she had seen.

“We should sit,” she said. “It’s a long story.”

Arthur released her from his arms, and pulled out a chair for her. He took the seat opposite hers and waited.

“God, I don’t even know where to start.”

Arthur laid his hand over hers on the tabletop and squeezed it gently. “Just start at the beginning,” he said. “Tell me what happened the night you were taken.”

She chewed on her lip for a moment and watched his broad fingers stroking her wrist. The beginning was the hardest part of all. Earlier today, on the roof of Mass Fusion, Arthur had asked her about Shaun. Upon seeing her expression he had assumed the worst. He’d pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, whispering that he was sorry, so sorry.

The truth, as always, was more complicated.

“The Courser took me to meet Father,” she began.

*

She found it easier to get up and pace while she was talking. That way she didn’t have to catch Arthur’s eye as often, and see the pain he felt on her behalf when she explained what had become of Shaun. How he had been raised as a guinea pig rather than a boy. How he had grown into a man who was brilliant and ambitious, yet empty of human empathy. How he had left his mother frozen for three decades; then, after giving in to curiosity and engineering her release, he had observed her with scientific detachment as she hunted through hell and high radiation to find him. Tears fell, but she kept on pacing and talking.

She told him of S9-23. The divisions. Of bees and flowers, and watching the making of a man. Of how she had found an ally in the unlikeliest of places.

Arthur was less shocked than she had anticipated when she told him about Madison Li. He merely nodded grimly, and when she asked him about it, he shrugged.

“After Dr Li parted ways with the Brotherhood, some of us suspected she’d fled north to the Commonwealth. Either to seek out the Institute, or because they’d reached out to her.”

“You’re not angry?”

“No. The Brotherhood was a dangerous place for her to be at that time. I was only young when she left, but I later learned that she’d received death threats. I can’t blame her for protecting herself, although I wish she’d chosen better company.”

“Yes. Well, after a few years, she did too. She chose to stay and help others to escape. Dr Virgil was a friend of hers.” She sighed and paced back the way she had come. “When I arrived, she was hopeful when she learned that I was close with the Brotherhood. And that you were in command.”

Arthur raised a sceptical eyebrow. “A man she last saw when he was eleven or twelve years old?”

“A man raised by Elder Lyons,” Joanna replied. “She told me he was a good man, and trustworthy. I told her you were, too.”

The look he gave her made her want to kiss him again, but she still had much to tell. She continued her story, explaining how Madison’s fears had come to a head after the birth of S9-23.

“Shaun told me S9 was an experiment,” she said. “Partly to explore what a synthetic child would be like. Partly to use as some kind of… _bait._ For me, up on the surface. He told me that synths didn’t age. That S9 would never grow up.” She cleared her throat and turned to cross the room again. She wrapped her arms around herself. “After I became close with Madison, she told me a different story. S9 had been placed under her care, and one day she’d decided to measure him. She discovered that he had grown. She assumed she’d made a mistake at first, but then she found he had gained weight, too. He’s grown by around two and a half centimetres since he was created. That’s a lot slower than a normal child; only about half the rate. But still, it was a shock. She kept the truth from Shaun at first, but... he eventually found out. And that’s when his plans changed.”

She stopped near Arthur’s desk. Her legs felt numb. She turned back towards him, though still didn’t meet his eye.

“I have a knack for knowing when someone isn’t telling me the whole truth,” she said. “It’s something I picked up back in the force. And I knew Shaun and the heads of Robotics weren’t telling me everything about the synths. About their real purpose. Why go to all the effort of making a perfect, enhanced human, only to use them for labour? Or to use as spies? They had gen ones and twos for that, and people like Kellogg on the surface.” She shook her head with a grimace. “Madison told me the real reason. They wanted immortality.”

She felt overwhelmingly weary again, so she returned to her seat. She looked at Arthur. The tension came off him in waves as he fought to contain his own response. Partway through her story he had reached for the pack of Grey Tortoise cigarettes on the table. He was on his third.

“Go on,” he said, voice much softer than his scowl.

“It turns out the synths themselves are only part of the plan. They’re the bodies; the vessels, if you like. But the Institute has also found a way to transfer memories from a human brain to a synthetic one. You’ve heard the rumours about them leeching memories, right?”

Arthur breathed out smoke like a brooding dragon, and nodded.

“Well, it’s true. That’s how they knew the best way to attack the airport. They put Knight Goody in the Siphon.” She watched Arthur’s eyes darken even more. “I’m so sorry. He was already dead by the time I got there. I would have helped him if I could.”

“Goody was my responsibility, not yours,” he said. “Go on.”

“The whole procedure is very… delicate. They mostly use the Siphon to extract memories, not to transfer them. Most of the people in the Institute don’t even know about it. It’s a privilege reserved for only the greatest minds of each generation.”

“And your son?”

“Yes. He’s been planning it for years. He’s—He has cancer. A very aggressive form. They’ve given him all kinds of treatments and transplants, but it only delays the inevitable for another year or so. He planned to have his memories transferred to a synth body once he became too sick. After I’d been there a couple of days, I was up late one night when I saw Shaun leave his quarters with X6. The Courser. They went to the Synth Retention Bureau. I later learned from Madison that he goes there once a week or so, to use the Siphon. He’s having his entire memory backed up. Like a computer hard drive.”

She eyed the pack of cigarettes, and for a moment considered lighting one for herself.

“He revealed the truth to me himself, just a few days ago. He told me that because the synth boy is growing, he’d decided not to have his memories implanted into an adult synth. Instead he wanted to use S9. He never really got to be a child, and he wanted to go back to that. To grow up, all over again.” Her voice began to waver. “With his mother.”

She cracked. The force of it was incredible, like the weight of a lake bursting through a dam. Arthur was there in a heartbeat. He crouched beside her chair, holding her as she broke down.

“He said—” She gasped for breath between sobs. “He said that if—If Nate—If only I’d left him there, kept him frozen—Oh, god. He said he could have made… a body… Used Nate’s memories—Fuck, how could he do that to me, how _could_ he? How could he think—” She pressed her face into Arthur’s neck. Her fingers hooked into his uniform like claws as her body tensed, racked with pain. “That’s what he offered me,” she moaned. Her fists smacked uselessly against Arthur’s shoulders. “A broken old man in a child’s body. And a… a _slave_ with my husband’s memories. That’s what he had to offer me.”

“Shhh,” Arthur whispered into her ear. He held her close and stroked her hair, letting her tears soak into the fabric of his uniform. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t okay, and it never would be. “He’s a monster,” she choked. “They turned my beautiful baby boy into a monster and there is nothing I can ever do about it. I’ve lost him forever.”

The black hole of her grief opened beneath her again, only this time there were arms to hold her, another soul to cling to as the crushing gravity tried to claim her. She let Arthur pull her from the chair down into his lap, and he wrapped her in his arms, cradling and hushing her, his big, solid body an anchor in the screaming void. She squeezed her eyes closed and gave into it.

She didn’t know how long they sat there. Long enough that her face dried and the roar faded to a dull ringing in her ears.

Arthur waited until she was breathing slowly and steadily before he spoke.

“I’ll tear them apart for you,” he swore. “I’ll blow the entire place to hell. They will never hurt another man, woman or child again.”

“No,” Joanna said. Her voice was muffled by his chest, so she pulled away a little. “We’re not going to destroy the Institute.”

“What?”

“We’re going to shut it down. Put an end to the synth program. And then Dr Li will take over as Director.”

Arthur brushed damp hair back from her cheek and frowned in incomprehension. “You can’t mean that.”

She withdrew some more and rubbed a hand over her aching face. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“What are you saying? Their technology, their ideals… They have to be wiped out. Everything you’ve just told me is proof of that. It’s the only way to be sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“No.”

Arthur started to shake his head. “Joanna—”

“Not like that. I’m not going to let any more innocent people suffer and die.”

“Innocent? After everything they’ve done—”

“Haven’t you been listening to me? The Institute holds the tools to make life better for everyone. Agriculture, fertility, medicine. Education. They are light years ahead of the rest of us. If you blow that to hell then you do as much harm to the Commonwealth as the Institute has.”

She could see she’d hit him where it hurt. She didn’t want to insult him, but this was too important to pull any punches. She got to her feet. Arthur reached for her wrist, but she walked away.

“I care about the people here,” he began.

“So prove it,” she retaliated.

“I thought I had,” he replied, wounded. “In Sanctuary.”

“Yes. You had a choice then, and you did the right thing. I need you to it again.”

“All right.” He pulled himself to his feet. “Tell me how exactly you propose to stop them without destroying their weapons. Do you think they’ll surrender? They won’t, Joanna, not without a fight. They have entire armies of synths at their command, and the power to make more.”

“Not any more,” she muttered, thinking of the emergency measures in place. “But we have a far greater advantage than you think. Don’t forget I have allies on the inside. Not to mention a valuable prisoner. Dr Filmore has a family in the Institute. I have no doubt she’ll cooperate with us. And I’ve told you, the Gen 3 synths aren’t weapons, they’re slaves. They want to be free of the Institute as much as the rest of us. They won’t fight us, as long as they know we don’t intend them any harm.”

Arthur shook his head with a grimace. The concept of synth humanity was proving a stubborn pill to swallow, not that Joanna was surprised. She would have to tell him about Danse soon. But one hurdle at a time.

“Even if— _if_ —this plan worked,” he said. “What’s next? How do you keep them from regaining power? What’s to say the same thing won’t happen five or ten years down the line, when the next director takes over, or someone decides to overthrow Dr Li?”

With her tears all gone, she felt lighter inside. Cleaner. She was freshly aware of the blood pumping through her body, the air in her lungs. “You want to know how? Fine. Not through war. Through something else that the entire human race seems to have forgotten about. _Law_.” She folded her arms and stared him down. “Right now, the only thing governing who lives and who dies is who’s holding the biggest stick. That goes for everyone from raiders killing farmers down on the ground, all the way up to the heavy hitters. The Institute, and you. They have their war machines. So do you. Don’t think I don’t know about the goddamn giant killer robot you’ve been building. I know about it because Shaun knows about it. It’s one of the reasons he was determined to hit the airport so hard. Tell me exactly how _that_ technology benefits mankind.”

She paused for a moment to ease her racing pulse. Adrenaline surged as she stood her ground. She felt nervous, and tired, and angry. But she also felt powerful. She _was_ powerful, and she wouldn’t hide it behind her fears any more.

Arthur, on the other hand, simply looked harangued. He sank into the chair she’d been sitting on earlier and watched her.

“Not that I have to explain my tactics to you,” he said gruffly, “but Liberty Prime is the asset I would have used to breach the Institute. And get you out.”

“Then it’s lucky for everyone I found a better way.”

He tapped one foot, inching closer to losing his temper. “Please, continue.”

“Once we have control of the Institute, we open it up to everyone,” she went on. “No more secret underground lair that operates without regard for simple ethics.” She paced to the other side of the room. “We can maintain order to begin with. The Minutemen are spread throughout the territory, and the people trust us. It makes us the perfect foundation for a law enforcement network. After that, we’ll need to establish a council. Representatives of the whole Commonwealth, who can make decisions on law and government. Minutemen, Institute, the major towns. Brotherhood, if you’re willing to be a part of it.”

“They’ve tried it before,” Arthur argued. “It was a failure.”

“Yes, because the Institute sabotaged it. That won’t happen again. Madison is committed to this. Others will follow when they see how much there is to gain.” Her bare feet were silent on the steel floor as she walked back towards him.

“I’m speaking to you as one leader to another,” she said. “And I’m not budging on this, Arthur.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Well, General.” His eyes were bright and defiant. “It sounds a lot like you’re declaring war with _me_.”

“I don’t want that,” she said. “We both know you could crush the Minutemen without even trying. But if you did, you’d only be proving my point, don’t you think?”

Arthur held his hands out in a gesture of bewildered frustration. “What do you expect me to do, just reverse the entire stance of the Brotherhood to fit in with your vision?”

Joanna flexed her feet against the floor, digging her heels in literally as well as figuratively.

“Yes.”

She had never seen him as utterly stunned as he did in that moment. He actually looked rather lovely with his eyebrows hiked halfway to his hairline and his mouth hanging open.

“You’re—”

He sat back in the chair and scrubbed his hand over his beard. Then he stood up. Joanna waited for him to start yelling. He put his hands on his hips, stared at her for a moment longer, and then simply laughed harshly.

“You are really remarkable, I’ll give you that. Never in my life has anyone spoken to me the way you do.”

“No, and that’s the problem. I’m the only person around here not kissing your ass, telling you what a wonderful leader and military strategist you are. And they’re not wrong. You’re a brilliant man. But you don’t know everything. You don’t know what’s best for the Commonwealth. I do. Boston is _my_ city. It was before the bombs, and it is now. I’ve seen it destroyed once by war. I won’t let that happen again.”

“You are, without a doubt, the most stubborn, infuriating woman I have ever met.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She thought she glimpsed the ghost of a smile contending with his glare before Arthur shook his head in exasperation. “Even if I wanted to, I cannot simply change the direction of the Brotherhood based on my own whim. My men don’t only answer to me. I answer to them, and to the Elders in the West. I can’t justify going against everything they’ve ever taught me. I won’t.”

“Fine. You don’t have to,” she replied. “Help me secure the Institute. After that, let the Minutemen take on government of the Commonwealth, while your soldiers provide support.” She put her hands on her hips, then realised she was mirroring his posture, and promptly folded her arms again. “I’m not a fool. I know it won’t be easy. We’ll meet resistance, and I could really use your help in dealing with that. Work with me. If you do, then the Brotherhood can leave knowing they achieved exactly what they came here to do, and restored peace.”

Any hint of humour faded from Arthur eyes. “Is that what you want?” he asked roughly. “You want me out of your life?”

“No, I don’t.” She stepped towards him. “And that’s why I’ll come with you when you leave.”

The poor man. She had hit him with more today than he could take, and she could practically see his head spinning. “What?”

“I mean exactly that. I’ll leave with you, go wherever you go next.” She looked him straight in the eye, and smiled. “I’ll marry you, Arthur.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. He watched her with the same hurt and confusion on his face.

“Please, don’t,” he said at last. He sounded as though his heart would break.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t hold that out to me if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.”

“But you—”

Joanna reached out a hand to trace along his jaw. He shook his head, and his lips twitched as though he were fighting tears. He kissed the pads of her fingertips.

“Everything you said—”

“There are some things I’m willing to budge on,” she replied. “Even if you are the most stubborn, difficult man I ever—”

He kissed her silent before she could finish that thought. She kissed him back with all the passion she had fought him with. Arthur lifted her roughly and squeezed her to him, palming her ass and thighs as she raised her legs to squeeze him right back. She ground against him and gasped as need flared hot and bright within her. She needed him in so many ways, and right now, she needed his body. His mouth and his hands and the hard length she could feel growing in his uniform. She wanted to devour him in return. To dig her fingers and her teeth into his thick thighs and perfect ass. She wanted to take his cock in her mouth until he was a breathless mess.

He dropped her down on the edge of the table. “Hmm,” he grumbled, frowning as he tugged on the hem of her shirt. “This is mine.”

She nodded. “You want it back?”

“Yes.”

It was yanked off over her head and thrown aside. He spared barely a glance at her clean white Institute bra before he was tugging it down, kissing her hungrily again. Joanna fumbled inexpertly at the clasps on his suit until he batted her hands away. He bowed his head to kiss and lick at her breasts, kneading and pinching with one hand as he swiftly unbuckled and unzipped his uniform with the other. Joanna watched him and whimpered, pressing his head to her chest. Having him touch her again was heaven, pure and simple. His beard tickled her skin as he worked his way up her chest and throat, kissing her mouth once more before he pulled away.

“I have something of yours, too.”

He tugged out two sets of holotags from the open zipper of his suit. Elder and Knight. She smiled.

“Keep them for now,” she said. “They’ll need a new name on them soon anyway.”

It worked better than dirty talk. She moaned into his mouth as he peeled the uniform off his beautiful body, then stood for a moment to yank her own pants down and kick them aside. He slid her underwear to the side and ran his fingers over her slick pussy.

“God,” she moaned. “Fuck, Arthur, please—”

She expected him to drag her to the bed, but he set her right back on the table. It seemed fitting to christen it after it had been the centrepiece of so many scenes from their relationship. She parted her legs for him and they groaned in perfect unison as he entered her.

They did end up on the bed, in stages. First she pushed him back into a chair and climbed into his lap, riding him until they were both cursing and shaking, she from the waves of her orgasm and he from fighting off his own. Finally he carried her to his bunk. He knelt between her thighs, stripped off her panties and plunged back inside her.

He couldn’t hold back for long. As his hips started to jerk out of rhythm, he tried to pull out. Joanna dug her heels into his ass and held him tight.

“No,” she gasped. “Inside me. It’s safe.” Her cycle had gone to hell with all the stresses on her body, and she had an IUD as back-up. She just wanted to feel him inside her.

Arthur was too far gone to question her. With a long moan and a gasp he came, the power in his hips and thighs shoving her further up the mattress until she had to brace a hand against the bars of his bed frame. She stroked his back as he slowed, caressing him where moments before she had scratched and clawed at his skin. They lay locked together, arms and legs tangled, Arthur still inside her as he grew soft. They kissed long and lazy. The rest of the world seemed so much further away with the welcome weight of his body on hers. How wonderful it would be if they could stay in this room forever.

The lamplight caught the planes of his face when he looked down at her.

“I love you, Jo.”

Her heart bloomed at his words and she knew that she was falling, falling. But Arthur knew she couldn’t answer him in kind, not yet. He kissed her again rather than wait for painful silence to follow. She twined her arms around his neck and searched his eyes when they broke apart.

“So, is that a yes?”

He returned her smile, almost shyly. “Its everything I want,” he said. “But are you sure you do?”

Joanna looked deep into his eyes, the beautiful blue that had dragged her in against her will. She wanted to be happy again. She wanted to be loved. She wanted the world to stop wearing her away to nothing. And the thought of being taken from his side again only made her hurt.

“I want _you_ ,” she insisted. She took his hand, the one that had been playing with a lock of her hair, and placed it over her heart.

“Arthur Maxson, will you do me the honour of being my husband?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tess and Syren for the beta and feedback! <3
> 
> And thanks to everyone else still following this crazy pair of bastards. It was interesting seeing where they went with this chapter. Sometimes I sketch it out in my head and then they step in and just run away with it. I hope the end result warmed your heart and gave you feels! Thank you, thank you, thank you a million times for commenting, kudos-ing and caring. You make my world go round. :)
> 
> EDIT: A couple of people have messaged me to ask if this is the end of the story. Nope, there is still plenty more to go! Alas, real life has driven my muse into hiding and I can't seem to lure her back out for love nor money. But as soon as I can snag that flighty wench, I will have something new up for you. A million thanks as always to everyone reading and supporting this story. Love you guys xo


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG YOU GUYS 
> 
> IT'S HERE
> 
> IT'S FINALLY HERE
> 
> To those of you who have been waiting for this update for endless months, I'd like to recommend going back and refreshing your memory of the last few chapters. Trust me, there was a ton of stuff I'd forgotten about, and I wrote it. 
> 
> AND NOW WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... please enjoy Chapter 28. 
> 
> Dedicated to my girlfriend [vivisecting](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vivisecting/pseuds/vivisecting) for being my #1 fan and cheering me on from the very first chapter.

****The sun rose bright and hopeful on the day that would be the end. A day for history to be made, for better or worse.

Somewhere amidst the rush of the last few hours, Joanna had managed to snatch a few moments of sleep in Arthur’s quarters on sheets still tousled from their earlier lovemaking. The nap was nowhere near adequate, but sleep was a luxury that would only be indulged once the Institute was safely in their hands. Adrenaline and a hasty mess hall breakfast would have to keep her going until then.

The flight deck had never been busier. The bulk of the Brotherhood’s armed forces would be engaged in battle today. Lancer-Captain Kells could be heard barking orders even over the roar and mechanical whine of Vertibird engines firing. Joanna and Preston waited for their transport, bodies pressed as close to the railing as possible to make way for scribes wheeling crates of munitions and radio equipment to and fro at alarming speed.

Joanna turned and saw Arthur moving towards them along the deck, sunlight catching on his suit of armour. It was easy to be a little in awe of him. The king amongst his men. Larger than life. He had addressed the troops before first light, a brief yet fervent reminder of what must be done and what was at stake. Not twenty-four hours ago, the Institute had attacked the airport. Now the Brotherhood machine was gearing up to full power for the counter-strike. The atmosphere on deck was electric, but not the same stirring energy she’d felt the last time Arthur had delivered a speech. This was a quick, steady pulse like a heartbeat before a race, a current directed into only the most precise and purposeful movement. A sense of dynamism was building with a faint taste of anxiety beneath it. Perhaps this was how it always felt in the hours before a major battle. She wouldn’t know; this was her first one. And, god willing, her last.

Arthur reached her.

“General,” he said, half smiling. He turned to Preston, standing at Joanna’s side. “Colonel.”

“Elder,” Joanna replied. They were the same height in their power armour, and stood eye to eye. Leader to leader.

He hadn’t slept at all. His face was no less tired and drawn, but his eyes burned bright with purpose.

“What’s the word from the Castle?” he asked.

“Major Shaw has thirty Minutemen ready to go by air. Then there’s at least another fifty making their way on foot from the outposts. I’m hoping for a hundred in total.”

“Good. You have a fine army, Joanna. But mine is more experienced and better equipped. Use that to your advantage.”

“I will.”

“That goes for you as well as your men,” he chided gently. “Tell me you won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Joanna nodded. “I won’t. But you need to promise me the same.”

He smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

“ _Arthur.”_

“I promise.”

Preston cleared his throat. “They’re ready for us,” he said, gesturing to the Vertibird with his stiff left arm. He nodded to Arthur. “ _Ad victoriam_ , Elder.”

Arthur saluted in return. “Protect the people, Colonel.”

There had been a little lingering tension between the two men at first; Joanna gathered that they had come to verbal blows on the night of her abduction. But they had come to a mutual respect.

Joanna took a deep breath of morning air. “Well. I guess it’s time.”

She and Arthur watched each other for a long moment.

“I’ll see you very soon,” he told her. “Be safe.”

This parting was so different from their last, back at the Castle on their first night together. This time they were at least granted a goodbye. They also had a considerably better idea of what they were walking into, but despite that, Joanna knew it wasn’t easy for Arthur to watch her go. She knew because it was harder than hell for her, too, watching him prepare to step into the line of fire. Today he was not the untouchable ruler in his castle in the clouds; the god amongst men of West Coast legend. Today he was a mortal man. A soldier like the rest of them with the scars on his body to show for it.

And more than that. Today he was her husband-to-be.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. A rush of admiration, gratitude, fear and affection swelled behind her breastplate. She couldn’t kiss him in front of all these people. She swallowed the bitter-sweet wave back down and did her best to convey what she could in the few words she spoke in return.

“You too. And... come back to me.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

He waited to see her off in the very spot where they had first kissed. They watched one another as long as they could until the Vertibird detached from its dock. Her stomach lurched as the ’bird dropped, and Arthur disappeared from view.

As they flew south west from the Prydwen’s new dock above Fort Strong, she turned and watched Preston instead. He sat across from her with his eyes closed and back straight, silent and solemn. He could have been saying a prayer or warding off pain, or perhaps simply catching a few final moments of peace.

She had visited him in the night as soon as she’d heard that he was conscious. A medical scribe had been in the process of changing Preston’s dressings when Joanna had arrived in the Prydwen’s medical bay, so she’d had to wait until he was finished before hugging her friend.

“Gently, please,” the scribe had warned when Preston winced in her enthusiastic embrace.

She’d quickly apologised and released him, but Preston had been just as relieved to see her as she was to see him.

“Everyone was so worried about you,” he’d told her. “All I kept hearing was, ‘nobody makes it out of the Institute alive’. But if anyone could prove them wrong, it’s you.”

His condition had improved, although the wound to his chest would keep him from fighting today. He hadn’t liked that one bit. He’d argued that his legs were still working just fine, and he could wield a one-handed firearm if his musket was too much, but Joanna had insisted.

“It feels wrong to not be fighting alongside my General,” he’d said sullenly, propped up in his bunk in the medical bay, bandages criss-crossing his bare chest and shoulder.

She had looked at him and sighed. Nothing ever seemed enough for him to recognise his worth, and yet he had done so much. Without Preston getting her holotape message to the Prydwen, the assault on the airport would have been devastating. Not to mention that the Institute would still be at full power if not for the Minutemen’s strike on the generators at Kendall hospital.

“Listen. You saved enough lives already today. Sit back and enjoy being a hero for once.”

He’d only shaken his head. “It’s lucky I got the message at all. I sat in the clubhouse drowning my sorrows and staring at that damn coat for an _hour_ before it occurred to me to check the lining.”

Joanna had filled him in on her story. Time had permitted only a scant outline of all that had happened in the Institute and since, so she had kept it to the essentials. She had spoken quickly, finding it easier now that she had unloaded the truth once tonight already, and had only stumbled on her words when it came to telling Preston about Danse. She’d had no rehearsal for that part. Arthur still did not know the truth about his paladin.

Preston, on the other hand, had already worked it out.

“I saw something happen,” he’d told her. By this point he had hauled himself up to sit on the edge of the bunk, bare feet planted on the floor.

Preston had strong, trustworthy hands. But he’d looked at them then as though they had betrayed him.

“Before I was shot, I saw the Courser… do something to him. It was like he just switched off.”

Joanna had reached out and linked her fingers with his. “Yeah. I know.”

Preston had looked up at her, face open and unguarded without the shadow of his hat, which usually fell like a mask over eyes that revealed a little too much. He had learned to fake confidence so others wouldn’t see how alone and afraid he felt. Out of uniform, he looked very young.

“Was he... always?”

“Yes.”

He had paused for a long time before speaking again. “I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling right now.”

Joanna had known then that if anyone could heal Danse, it would be Preston. And that the reverse was equally true. The connection between them was real. It gave her hope.

When it had come to the news about her engagement, Preston’s reaction had been ambivalent.

“General...”

“You know you don’t always have to call me that.”

“I know I don’t.” He’d sighed. “But marriage? I don’t want to say I told you so, but I kinda saw this coming. That he’d offer you a trade.”

“Actually... I proposed to him this time.” She had avoided his eye and looked instead at their hands, clasped together. “I’m falling for him, Preston. Hard.”

He had squeezed her hand in reply. “If it’s what you want, then I’ve got your back. You know that.”

He hadn’t needed to add the ‘ _but_.’ Joanna knew only too well that whatever choice she had made, she would end up saying goodbye to someone she cared about. The prospect of further loss did not bear contemplating, so for now she had chosen not to. Her focus needed to be on winning.

“Knowing that the Commonwealth is safer will be enough for me,” she had reassured Preston. “Knowing you’re here looking out for everyone.”

He’d shaken his head, smiling weakly. “I keep telling you I don’t want that damn promotion.”

“I know. Too bad I’m not taking no for an answer. Now put your shirt on, Colonel. We have a battle to plan.” Spotting his hat on the desk, she had gotten to her feet and reached for it. “Better wear this, too, before Danse remembers your bet.”

And she had settled it on his head, slightly askew, hoping to lighten their heavy hearts.

*

Joanna stood by the barricades that walled off the police station yard and watched Ronnie Shaw lead an infantry of two dozen Minutemen down the road toward their positions around the CIT ruins. She stared at their retreating backs and wondered, with the unpleasant sensation that her heart was sinking into her boots, how many of them she would see again. She had to fight the urge to call them back. Not for the first time, she found herself thinking that Nate would have been a better candidate for the role she’d found herself in. Putting her own life on the line had come easily enough. Risking others took another kind of strength entirely.

There was no time for doubt. Eventually she turned away and went back into the fortified courtyard.

Cambridge hadn’t seen this much action since before the war. Men and women milled around her, moving and unloading equipment. The police station would form the primary base of operations until the Institute was safely under allied control. Two soldiers hurried to erect a medical tent, cursing when the flapping canvas was ripped from their hands in the down-draft of a Vertibird coming into land on the station roof. Aircraft had been flying in one after another for the past hour, depositing Brotherhood troops and equipment as well as groups of Minutemen from the Castle. Meanwhile more of Joanna’s motley infantry continued to arrive on foot from the north and east.

She had nothing more to do here for now, so she jammed the helmet back on her head and picked her way through the crowd to the gates. Her unit awaited her in College Square.

Her last suit of power armour had perished in the Glowing Sea. Today she was kitted out in something rather different. The symbol emblazoned on the breastplate drew curious glances as she made her way up the road. The T-45d’s movement was a little slower than the later models she’d used, but flawlessly smooth. Joanna suspected it had stronger actuators too; she could feel the potential power in each movement as she strode up the tarmac. The weight of the huge laser rifle in her arms barely even registered. She could probably punch clean through a wall in this thing.

Two short bursts of gunfire up ahead set her heart racing, and she hurried around the corner into the square. It was only a Minuteman soldier finishing off a ghoul as it scrabbled out from under some wreckage. It fell still with a rattling hiss from its throat. Here and there lay the tattered remains of others that she and Preston had slain on their way through the square to answer Recon Squad Gladius’ distress call, months earlier. Back before Kellogg, before the Prydwen, before Arthur. Back when Joanna still had hopes of bringing her baby home.

A cluster of soldiers from both armies stood by the entrance to the subway, passing around a pack of cigarettes and talking in low voices. Joanna raised a hand to greet them as she headed to the old store where her unit had set up base. It made a poor shelter with no door in the entrance or glass in the windows. A gust of wind chased Joanna inside and she peered back at the sky, darkening on the horizon to an ominous grey-green. A rad storm was heading in from the west.

“The General has arrived,” a female voice announced from a gloomy corner. A moment later Scribe Haylen’s freckled face appeared over the top of a stack of crates.

Joanna approached, unfastening her helmet once again. She was grateful for any excuse to remove it. The breeze tickled her neck pleasantly.

“You can see through walls now?”

Haylen smiled and sat back down behind her terminal. A stack of radio and other equipment was crammed on the low table beside it. Like everyone else, Haylen looked as though she could do with twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. There were three bottles of Nuka Cola lined up along the top of her terminal. Precious caffeine.

“You bet I can,” she replied. She had nudged her headset back off one ear so they could talk. She pointed at her screen. “You’re right here.”

Joanna leaned in and saw red dots blinking on a blue grid. Haylen’s forefinger hovered over one particular red dot labelled ‘CAL1’ that was blinking faster than the others.

“It’s your suit’s beacon,” she explained. “Best way to keep track of you while you’re down there. Or up here.” She gave Joanna’s power armour a quick glance up and down. “Speaking of suits, did somebody get a promotion?”

“You’re about the twentieth person to ask me that,” Joanna sighed. “No. I’m just borrowing it.”

She held out her left arm and looked down at the insignia painted there. A single diamond in the outline of the winged shield.

Sentinel.

“Arthur, no,” she had told him, because it had of course been his idea.

He had led her to the power armour bay shortly before dawn to show her what he wished her to wear in battle. Joanna hadn’t relished the idea of climbing back inside any powered suit, not since her claustrophobic ordeal in the Glowing Sea, but this one seemed particularly inappropriate.

Arthur had ignored her protests. “This belonged to Sarah Lyons, before her father died and she took his place as Elder. The two of them were the closest I had to kin in the Citadel.”

Joanna had checked that no one was watching them before discreetly squeezing his hand. “Yes. Proctor Ingram told me a little about her.” She had looked over the gleaming steel, at the sword and lion rampant painted proudly on the chest. It reminded her more of a lovingly restored museum piece than functional armour. “But I—” She’d turned back to him, shaking her head. “I can’t wear this. It wouldn’t be right.”

“This suit offers the best possible protection I can give you. Other than keeping you locked in my quarters until the mission is over.” He’d smiled at the exasperated look Joanna had given him. “Sarah always believed it was lucky. She was never injured or failed a mission while she was wearing this. Whether that was superstition or not, I want you to wear it. Just for today.”

“What about Ingram?” Jo had argued. “It just seems… disrespectful. I know what this suit means to her.”

“And she knows what you mean to me,” Arthur had replied, turning those lovely blue eyes on her. He seemed to be catching on to the unfair advantage they gave him. The cheat.

Suffice to say, he’d won that particular argument.

God, she wanted to see him. Everything had been such a frantic rush since she had stepped out of Mass Fusion and into his arms. She had barely caught her breath.

“Who else do you have on there?” she asked Haylen. “The beacons, I mean.”

“Let’s see.” Haylen tapped at her keyboard and zoomed in on the web of blue lines on the screen. “That’s Paladin Ando, and Proctor Ingram next to her.”

Joanna squinted at two more markers with the letters ‘IO1’ and ‘IO2’ hovering above them.

“It took a couple of hours, but the engineers got through the first door and now they’re dealing with the second. I’m not sure if they’re still using explosives, but… if you feel the ground shake, don’t panic. Hmm... over here is Knight Muñez. Sorry— _Paladin_ Muñez. And I’m not sure where Rhys has gotten to...”

In the midst of the hectic night there had been a few promotions. Muñez had stepped up a rank, and his former position of Senior Knight would now be filled by Rhys.

Haylen scrolled around the grid, frowning. “He’s probably still running around hunting for hostiles. I think he’s mad that nobody left him any ferals to kill. He still has a huge chip on his shoulder after the police station attack.” She rolled her eyes, but Joanna recognised the affection in her voice.

Joanna smiled. Rhys had the whole damn sack of chips on his shoulder. Perhaps his new responsibilities would even him out a little.

“What about the other units. Can you track Europa?”

Europa was Arthur’s team. Haylen gave her a sly sideways glance, and Joanna had a nasty suspicion that Rhys had spilled the beans about witnessing their kiss on the rooftop of Mass Fusion.

“Sorry,” Haylen told her. “I only have eyes on Io and Callisto from here. I can check in by radio if you want?”

“Not right now. I’ll get an update before we head down.” She looked around the ruined store. Preston was nowhere in sight. “Have you seen Colonel Garvey?”

“He’s briefing your team next door.” Haylen gestured across the room to a place where the wall between this store and its neighbour had caved in. “But before you go—Can I ask you something?”

She waited for Joanna to nod, then lowered her voice. “It’s about the plan. To liberate the synths. I know people are confused, and some of them are angry. I just wanted to say that… It makes sense. And I support it.”

“Thank you. That’s good to hear.”

Jo knew that fighting prejudice against synths would take a long time. The citizens of Diamond City were particularly vocal in their hatred. Even in Goodneighbor, where the mayor preached of tolerance, synths—or suspected synths—had been slaughtered in the streets.

“What I was wondering is…” Haylen’s voice dropped again until Joanna had to lean in to hear her. “What if it turned out that there was a synth in the Brotherhood ranks. What do you think would happen to them after all of this?”

Joanna scanned Haylen’s features. The scribe was uneasy, dodging eye contact.

“What have you heard?”

Haylen’s eyes flicked back to hers, startled. “Oh no, nothing. It’s not—That is, I meant it purely hypothetically. With how advanced the new generation synths are, it’s not impossible that one could be right under our noses. I just wondered, in that situation, if we were to discover something shocking about someone we considered a friend... If synths are no longer the enemy, then would they be allowed to stay?”

Joanna had no idea how Haylen had figured out the truth about Danse. She had thought it was a secret only she and Preston shared. But the scribe’s sharp mind had always impressed her. She considered her response. She had been turning the problem over herself for the last day and night: what would become of Danse? He himself was broken by the knowledge, and believed that Arthur would sooner see him dead than back in the Brotherhood. Guilt stabbed at her. If only she’d had the guts to tell Arthur the truth, she could have given Haylen an answer, but she had let every opportunity slip by.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “That really comes down to the Elder. But I’ll do whatever I can to convince him.”

*

It had begun to rain by the time Joanna’s unit was cleared to proceed. It fell in sheets under the eerie green sky, and the Geiger counter in her helmet crackled and spit as she led her soldiers down the long-frozen escalator to the Metro entrance. Dozens of pairs of boots sloshed through water and centuries of debris. She waited until the last one had filed past her through the doors before turning to give Preston one last wave. He watched her from the square, rain dripping miserably off his hat. He did so hate the rain.

A soldier from Io unit was waiting inside to guide them down to where Proctor Ingram’s unit was waiting. Jo took a moment to check the name and crest on the woman’s armour. Paladin Ando. They would have been lost without her; quite literally, because the lower levels were so choked with dust from Team Io’s demolition work that the passageways were unnavigable. Joanna’s headlamp lit only a few yards in front of her, and she had to stop and order her soldiers to proceed close together in single file, eyes closed if necessary for those without goggles or helmet. At last they came to a small room along a maintenance tunnel. It may have housed generators or other machinery at one time. Now there was nothing to be seen but a huge, square hole in the centre of the floor.

Ando stood on the edge and gestured down into the dark with one steel hand. “After you, General.”

More dust billowed up as Joanna’s feet hit the great steel slab of the tunnel’s outer door, which had collapsed inward and now served as a ramp leading down. At the bottom and a little distance along, a second mighty entrance had been blasted open. The two doors would have functioned as an airlock to control for contamination leaking inside. The Institute certainly did err on the side of caution.

There were lights moving up ahead. Joanna headed towards them and was greeted moments later by Proctor Ingram, whose power armour frame was now fully plated for combat. Her helmet was off and her face streaked with dust, but her expression was triumphant.

“Here we are,” she said, gesturing around her to the rough stone walls of the tunnel. “One step closer to the Institute.”

Joanna nodded. “Any signs of life so far?”

“Not a peep. They clearly weren’t finished yet. There’s no lighting, and nothing in the way of electronics. Both doors had manual mechanisms. This place is functional, but it’s still off the grid.”

The tunnel entrance—or rather, its exit—was too far from the Institute complex for the detonations to be heard, but Joanna had been concerned about other security measures. She still was. Shaun and his staff were bold and arrogant, but not careless.

Joanna peered into the murky darkness ahead. The tunnel sloped gradually down into pitch darkness. When she turned back, the Proctor was eyeing her armour. She was immediately self-conscious again. She almost dropped the helmet as she fumbled it off one-handed.

“I hope you don’t hate me for wearing this,” she said. “It was Elder Maxson’s idea. I tried to argue with him, but...”

Ingram stood back and gave her a long and deliberate look up and down. She shook her head.

“Actually, it kind of suits you,” she said with a dry smile. “And don’t worry about it. Sarah would have wanted it to be used. That’s what matters. Not my sentimentality.”

“Well. It means a lot, so thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s supposed to take care of you,” Ingram replied. “That’s the point.”

Behind them, the fallen door boomed like a muffled gong as body after body hopped down into the tunnel’s mouth. Soon the entire team was gathered, and they lined up in long rows for a roll call, straightening armour pieces and checking weapons. Minutemen and Brotherhood stood shoulder to shoulder. Two armies united by a common goal. And somewhere deep in the earth beyond lay their target, the place Kellogg had once sneeringly told Joanna could not be found. After everything she had seen and heard, she was no longer sure she believed that anything was impossible.

It was something she and Arthur had in common. That and a stubbornness that could make them intolerable at times, but in the right situation became a driving force. And despite their clashing differences of opinion and ideology, they both had a deep-rooted desire to do what was right. Those qualities combined meant that when faced with a conundrum like how to stop the Institute, neither was taking no for an answer.

*

Their first and most critical problem in planning the attack had of course been how to get back in.

Joanna had spent ten days inside the Institute. Arthur had not passed that time standing idly by and waiting for her to be delivered back to him. He had split his forces between two main projects: the first was the mysterious Project Caliburnus, which Joanna now knew was the codename for the giant pre-war robot that she had learned about through Shaun. Liberty Prime. The remaining teams had been sent out to once again scour the area around CIT for another way in. Neither task had borne fruit. Progress on Prime was slow, even with Arthur piling more staff and resources into its completion. And the few sections of accessible sewer and subway tunnel in the region of CIT led nowhere.

Or so it had seemed. There was always a solution, provided one asked the right questions. This key had been guarded by one of their Institute guests.

The mission to Mass Fusion had provided Joanna with not only a means of escape, but a chance to snatch one of Shaun’s key assets: Dr Filmore. As head of the Facilities division, Allie knew the layout of the Institute better than anyone. She would be vital in helping them to draw up accurate plans of the facility.

She also now hated Joanna with a venomous passion. So when Joanna had gone to speak with the doctor she had been met with icy resistance. It was fortunate, then, that she was no stranger to the interview room. She had cracked tougher nuts than Allie Filmore.

It had been easy enough to slip back into the well-worn shoes of Detective Mayes. And having Arthur’s glowering presence at her back hadn’t hurt.

“You twisted bitch,” Allie had slung at her after almost an hour of chipping away at her resolve. “Your _son_ is down there.”

“And so is yours,” Joanna had fired back. “My son is a dying old man. Quentin is a bright, healthy child with everything to live for. Which of us has the most to lose?”

Threatening Filmore’s family had left a bad taste in Joanna’s mouth, but the woman’s need to protect her loved ones was the only thing that outweighed her loyalty to Shaun. Joanna had laid it on thick. She’d contemplated at length the numerous ways everyone inside might perish if the allied armies were forced to blast a way in from above. At last the doctor had yelled at her to stop.

“So _make_ it stop.” Joanna had allowed a pause before going on. “Phase Three was about to start. There is no way a responsible, rad-fearing engineer like yourself would build a nuclear reactor in an enclosed underground facility without first planning some means of emergency evacuation. I also happen to know that there was a lot of digging going on down there that most people didn’t know about. So, for the last time. Get us in there safely, or we go with Plan B.”

*

The second problem was the Coursers.

Arthur was not overly concerned about the first and second generation synths; his soldiers had fought enough of them in the field to know how best to defeat them. The same could not be said for the Courser class. They were too fast, too unpredictable to engage in close quarters. No one had ever succeeded in killing one.

Joanna had paid a visit to X6-88 in the hopes of gleaning some information from him, but to no avail. His training had left him impervious to the kind of manipulation that worked on Allie Filmore. Since Joanna refused to let the prisoner be harmed, they had gone back to the drawing board.

“We need a diversion,” Arthur had said, frowning at the plans on the table in front of him. “Something to draw the Coursers out so the primary unit can seize the facility.”

Joanna was best acquainted with her new fiancé’s private side; the side that was hesitant and earnest, full of feeling yet often uncertain how to express it. Seeing him on the command deck plotting a full-scale military assault had been a stark reminder that her young and tender lover was also an accomplished warlord. He’d been in his element. As much as Joanna preferred peace to war, she could not help but admire the confidence and intelligence with which he attacked the task at hand. Whenever one of his staff had argued that something could not be done, he had persisted, throwing out suggestion after suggestion until each obstacle had been eliminated and the impossible become possible.

“We use three units,” he’d announced at last. “The first will attack above ground with Prime.”

Ingram had looked mildly exasperated. “Sir—”

“Can you get his laser up and running by dawn?”

“I don’t see how—”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Yeah, I can do it.” Ingram had rubbed her weary brow. “But Arthur… Look, I’ll be the first to argue how far you can get in life with no legs. But Prime is just a head. A very large, very heavy, _head_. Some of his components were destroyed at the airport. There’s no possible way I can piece him together now, not even if I had a whole month to prepare.”

“He may not have legs,” Arthur had replied, a smile lifting one side of his grim mouth, “But we can give him wings.”

After a moment of silence, Kells had chuckled. Joanna had never heard him laugh before.

“That could work,” he’d said. “We’d need two Vertibirds, but it could work.”

“Forgive me, I’m a little lost here,” Preston had said, raising his hand as though he were in a classroom. “You’re going to use Vertibirds to fly this... giant robot head to CIT.”

Arthur had nodded. “That’s correct.”

“And then use the giant laser on the giant robot head to… Do what exactly?”

Ingram had turned to him to explain. “Liberty Prime’s laser weapon is powerful enough to turn concrete and glass to ash. We’d originally hoped to use it to burn a passage right into the Institute.”

“Only now, Prime will be a decoy,” Arthur had continued. “We just need to convince the Director that we’re forcing our way in from above. The Institute is low on power. We can assume that they’ll opt to send out their best fighters to stop us. That means Coursers. There’s no use in wasting power by using the molecular relay for the older synth units.”

He had drummed his fingers on the map before him. Plan after plan had been drawn up throughout the night, and this was the most detailed yet. Different coloured layers indicated the structures above ground, the layout of the Institute beneath it, and various sections of subway tunnels and city sewers.

“The CIT ruins create a perfect boxed-in area. We position Prime here.” He’d picked up a chess piece from the board in the centre of the table and set it down on the map, at the entrance to the ruins. A black rook. Other pieces had already been placed at strategic locations; black for Brotherhood, white for Minutemen. “We direct the laser _here_ , at the centre of the courtyard. It’s highly likely the Coursers will relay to within the yard to try and disable Prime. At most, they’ll teleport to the surrounding rooftops.”

“So we position our fighters first,” Paladin Brandis had said, leaning in and stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Lie in wait, and then… It’ll be like fish in a barrel.”

“Precisely.” Arthur had taken a moment to place more chess pieces around the area. Two knights and a number of pawns, both black and white. “Meanwhile, our second unit enters undetected through the evacuation tunnel. They flow in and disperse, locking down each floor within minutes with minimal resistance.”

He had reached for the chess pieces positioned in College Square, roughly at the entrance to the secret evacuation tunnel. A black bishop to represent Ingram, and beside it, the white queen. Joanna. Arthur had swept them forward until they stood within the walls of the Institute.

“And the third unit?” Joanna had asked.

Arthur had smiled and plucked the black king from the board.

“Here.” He’d placed his piece a little to the east of CIT. “There’s a sewer tunnel that runs along here, east to west. Our reconnaissance teams found a dead end, right here. It didn’t raise any suspicions before, but then I had Proctor Quinlan compare the current state of the tunnels with pre-war plans. This sewer originally extended much further to the west.” He’d traced the area beside the blockage with a forefinger. “Now that we have the Institute plans to compare, look where that dead end sits.”

Joanna had hurried to his side to lean in and look more closely.

“That’s—” Her eyes had widened. “That’s the molecular relay chamber,” she’d said. She had caught his eye, and they’d both begun to smile in unison.

“The relay chamber is the closest point to the surface in the Institute complex,” he’d said. “They couldn’t build there without running into something from before the war. They must have extended into part of the sewer system, and sealed it off behind them to stay hidden.”

“If you cripple the relay, you cripple the entire facility,” Joanna had said, marvelling at how neatly he had fit it all together.

Arthur had nodded, still smiling. “My team will break through into the relay chamber and disable it. That will leave the Courser units stranded on the surface, and our forces in possession of the only routes in and out of the facility. And with that...”

Their eyes had locked for a moment longer, and in that moment Joanna was sure she had fallen for him a little harder.

“We win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peers out from under heap of blankets and a cat*
> 
> This chapter nearly fucking killed me, I swear. I last updated in July and since then started countless drafts of this fucker. It was largely a loss of momentum but also the logistics of what I wanted to write. My goal was to cram in all the information needed without making it read like a textbook, as well as, y'know, advancing the plot a little. I don't know how well I've succeeded. Please let me know if there is anything that needs clarifying or is just plain wrong. 
> 
> Last but not least, thank you so much for your patience. I didn't think anyone would stick around for all this time. I truly hope it lives up to your expectations. And no, I won't make you wait eight months for the next chapter. :D


	29. Chapter 29

****“This place creeps me out.”

It wasn’t the first time Jo had heard the sentiment expressed this morning.

It wasn’t that they had encountered anything overtly sinister. The tunnel was still a work in progress, and at the Cambridge end was little more than a mole rat burrow blasted through the earth, the only sophisticated features being the two huge doors that had—until now—kept the outside world at bay. But it began to evolve around them the further they marched. A short way in, the damp walls and uneven rock underfoot disappeared beneath prefabricated panels that glared white in the soldiers’ headlamps. They passed signs of recent activity: abandoned tools, boxes of pristine tiles and fixtures. Further along they found a series of doors set into recesses along the walls. Inside were storage areas, the shelves empty for now but ready to be stacked with food and medical supplies in the event of a mass evacuation.

The tunnel was deserted for now, all work placed on hold while the facility was running on emergency power. And yet it was not the ghostly emptiness of the place that unsettled Joanna’s troops, nor the darkness. Rather it seemed to be the stark perfection of it. The clean angles and white walls; the gleam of steel fittings unblemished by time. It had never crossed Joanna’s mind that people born and raised in the grim world above would react to these resources not with awe or greed, but with suspicion. They had so little above the ground and all of it was tainted in one way or another. But to her followers who’d lived all their days amongst dust and bones, poisoned water and dead trees, this place was as alien as the wasteland had been to her on the day she’d stepped out of the vault. It may be a goldmine, but its treasures were cursed.

She turned her head to look down at the man who had just spoken. She was a head taller than him in her armour.

“Well, Colonel,” she said. “You’re not even supposed to be down here.”

Preston smiled sheepishly beneath the brim of his hat. “I know. I promise, it’s the last time I disobey a direct order.”

“Huh. Well, remind me to court-martial you when we get back up top. I would kick your ass right now, but I’m conserving my energy.”

He flashed her a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

He had caught up with Io and Callisto a short while earlier as they descended through the tunnel, much to Joanna’s disgruntled surprise. He had explained to the soldiers on guard that he had a critical message to relay, but when Joanna had dragged him off to one side, he’d confessed that he simply couldn’t bear sitting on his hands up above.

“They don’t need me up there,” he’d argued, once she had torn a strip off him. “The radios are all manned; the Brotherhood have it covered. I want to be useful to you. I _need_ to.”

His defiance was out of character, but she understood. Preston already struggled with what he viewed as his past failings. Warming the bench during the defining battle for the Commonwealth’s future was as unbearable to him as it would have been to her, injured or not. She had grudgingly let him follow, but secretly she was relieved to have him by her side. He knew the soldiers better than she did and formed a bridge between her and the rest of the unit. He buoyed her confidence, and the soldiers’ too. The Minutemen seemed to stand taller with Preston in their midst.

A few minutes passed before Paladin Ando, at the head of the party, turned and signalled for them to stop. Muñez caught up with her and the two spoke in low voices. Joanna motioned for Preston to wait, and went ahead to speak with Ingram.

“Any idea what’s up?”

“Nope,” Ingram replied. She whistled as her helmet’s bright beam passed over a stack of strip lights waiting to be installed. While others complained of getting the jitters, Ingram had been looking around the tunnel with a more covetous eye. “Where the hell do they source all the materials for this place?”

“A lot is scavenged from the surface, but from what I’ve been told, they fabricate plenty of it here, too. They can synthesize all kinds of materials,” Joanna told her. “Just wait ’til we get to the atrium. This is nothing.”

“I can’t wait.”

Joanna couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. It was true that enough technology lay up ahead to make the Proctor’s fingers twitch inside their gauntlets in anticipation. Before either could say more, Ando called them over to join the huddle.

“Pal’s found a door up ahead,” Paladin Muñez explained. The reprogrammed Eyebot he referred to hovered behind his shoulder. “Still no active defences or cameras, but we need to proceed with caution. Don’t want to risk being heard this close to the atrium. I propose that I go on with the Proctor and a couple of engineers to take a look. The rest of you hang back here until we know it’s safe to move out.”

It was hard to tell with helmets eliminating eye contact, but he appeared to be looking to Joanna for agreement.

“Affirmative, Paladin,” she said.

Joanna’s men found some battery powered work lights and set them up along the walls. With no current need for her headlamp, Joanna was able to take off her helmet for a while. She exhaled in relief. The armour was even more claustrophobic underground in the dark. She hated the way her own breath echoed around her ears. It took her back to the Glowing Sea and the certainty of her impending death.

Joanna looked around at the men and women who made up Teams Callisto and Io as they checked their weapons and passed around cans of water.Paladin Ando, strong and stern. A dozen Brotherhood Knights in power armour. Initiates in uniforms and heavy plating for protection. The pair of comms officers who moved off to a side room to listen for radio contact.

The rest—fifty or sixty of them in total—were Joanna’s own Minutemen, and they were more of a patchwork; an assortment of scavenged, home made or borrowed armour worn over faded blues and browns. Helmets and hats as varied as their firearms, as varied as their backgrounds and their stories. Only the Minutemen crest stencilled onto chest plates and shoulder guards identified them as fighters under the same flag. That, and the fact their eyes turned to Joanna for direction.

She took a few minutes to run them through the game plan one final time.

“Once we get the signal, we head out immediately. It’s essential that we each stick closely with our cells or there’s going to be confusion. We don’t have time for that. Europa will be breaching the relay room up above as we enter. Synchronisation is the key to making this a short, safe operation. Your cell leaders have studied the plans; trust them to lead you where you need to go. Does everyone know who they’re with and their destination?”

She took in the nodding heads and determined faces.

“Good. Now, it’s almost certain we’ll meet synth resistance. The Gen Ones and Twos won’t surrender. If you have pulse grenades, use them. Otherwise, aim for the limbs to take them down fast. If your opponent looks human, avoid force unless absolutely necessary. We need to send the message that we’re not here to fight. Who’s taking the residential quarters with me?”

A good third or so of the Minutemen raised their hands.

“Excellent. The residents aren’t bad people, regardless of what you might think about the Institute’s handiwork. They’re ordinary families, and this is the only home they’ve ever known. They’re going to be scared. I need you to handle them carefully. Don’t forget that we’re here to help them and the synths as well as our friends on the surface. What we do today is just the beginning. The Minutemen will be policing the Commonwealth from now on, and we must be seen to show respect for justice over brute force.”

She looked over them slowly. There were so many she had no hope of remembering every face, but she wanted to at least acknowledge each of them. She promised herself she would find time to speak with them all after the battle. Some were familiar faces. Jake Finch, the son of farmers. Jill Redfern, who’d helped defend Sanctuary against supermutants. The young man with flames tattooed around his eyes; he was called Hunter, though Joanna wasn’t sure if that was his real name or more of a description. Either way, he’d come a long way from his raider roots. According to Preston he was shaping up to be a fine lieutenant.

She wished she was dressed in her coat and hat so they could see how truly proud she was to lead them.

“I’ll warn you now, once we’re through that door, it’s like being in a different world. The Institute is like nothing you’ve seen before. But again, we don’t have time to get distracted. And please, no looting, no matter how tempting it may be. Any questions?”

She was taken aback at the show of hands, and even with Preston’s assistance it was another fifteen minutes before she was able to withdraw. Many were still curious and anxious about the decision to free the synths. The mistrust of Gen 3s was likely to linger for months, probably years to come. Before long she hoped to have laws in place to protect them.

When she had a moment to herself, she stepped out of the Sentinel armour to stretch her limbs. She swigged water from her canteen and went to ask the communications officers about the status on the surface. Ando was with them, doing the same.

“Last we heard was four minutes ago,” one of the scribes informed her. She looked very young, with hair cropped so short she was almost bald. “Leda was en route with Ganymede standing by.”

That meant the action was about to begin. Perhaps it had already started. Joanna’s gut tightened in anticipation. The lancer unit—Leda—was responsible for carrying Liberty Prime’s disembodied head from Fort Strong to the CIT ruins and activating its laser. Meanwhile the ground unit—named after Jupiter’s much larger moon, Ganymede, for its comparative size—watched with fingers on triggers from the surrounding walls.

“I’ll let you know as soon as they hear more,” Ando told her.

“Thank you, Paladin.”

It was now a waiting game. The momentary lack of distraction allowed Joanna’s mind to wander, and her fears to surface.

She needed to be the first to get to Shaun. He was too stubborn to stand down easily. However grievous his crimes, he was still her son, and Joanna did not want him harmed. She doubted he would ever forgive her betrayal. She wasn’t sure she could fully forgive him either. But she was determined that he be treated with dignity as his health failed.

Then there was Danse. It was only a day since she’d crept into SRB and spoken with him. With any luck, Ayo and his Coursers had been too preoccupied with the attack on the airport and the power shortage to interfere with her friend any further. But even in that best case scenario, twenty-four hours was a long time for a man faced with a life-destroying truth. He’d been suicidal when Joanna saw him. She could only pray that he had enough to hold onto until he could be freed.

At this moment, somewhere far above her, Arthur’s Europa unit would be preparing to blast their way into the molecular relay room. The sewer tunnels were ancient and unstable. Once inside the Institute, they would likely meet with resistance. The team was only seven strong including Arthur. He’d assured her that everything would be fine and, as always, it had been easy to believe him at the time. Now her stomach was twisting.

 _He survived a deathclaw,_ she chided herself. _And supermutants, and God only knows what else. He knows what he’s doing._

He did. But he was also exhausted. She thought back to the last private moments they had shared, some time in the dark hours that were neither night nor morning. Once the battle plan had been agreed, Joanna had radioed Ronnie Shaw at the Castle to get the wheels turning. Afterwards she had gone searching for Arthur. She’d found him out on the foredeck, fleece-lined collar turned up against a stiff breeze. The tip of his cigarette had flared on his inhale and lit his profile red-gold. He’d already chain-smoked throughout the war room meeting, and despite the passion with which he’d pulled their strategy together, Joanna had watched his eyes grow wearier and his frown deeper as the night wore on. The last twenty-four hours had overloaded him. The attack on the airport; Joanna’s return; all the mind-bending truths she had revealed about the Institute. The weight of what they still had to do. Even their engagement, happy as it had made him, had been another emotional bombshell.

Arthur had breathed out smoke into the wind as he turned and saw her. She’d touched his arm through the thick leather of his coat.

“How are you holding up?”

He’d shaken his head at that. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I think that’s part of the deal now. We worry about each other.”

Seeing her shiver in the wind, Arthur had opened his coat and pulled her in tight against his body, folding the soft leather around her as best he could. Joanna had pressed her face to his warm throat and closed her eyes. They had stayed like that, simply holding and warming one another, for as long as they could afford—which wasn’t nearly long enough. It never was.

Arthur had been thinking the same. “We’ll get some time alone when this is over,” he’d assured her.

Joanna hummed her agreement against his skin and tightened her grip on his waist. “God, I can’t wait. I want to spend at least a week in bed.”

He had kissed the top of her head, and added, “My bed, I hope?”

“Of course. Maybe I’ll even let you sleep some of the time.”

His laugh had rumbled against her ear. She’d lifted her head to look at him. Arthur had smiled, so very handsome even as tired as he was. How had she ever managed to keep her eyes off him?

“You don’t smile often enough,” she’d said, tracing the line of his lips with her fingers.

The expression had faded and he’d looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “I haven’t had much reason to,” he’d said. “Besides, I prefer not to.”

Joanna had laughed, bemused. “You prefer not to smile?”

“I hate my smile.” Her dumbstruck expression had led him to elaborate. He’d shrugged awkwardly before explaining, “It doesn’t… I can’t properly. Because of the scar. The muscles on that side are damaged.”

It was true, now he mentioned it, that his smile was a little lop-sided under the thick growth of beard. But if anything that only made it more appealing. She’d reached up and kissed his scarred cheek. Then tilted his face back towards her and kissed his lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

She closed her eyes and focused on the memory. The thought of Arthur’s solid presence and warm scent helped ground her in the present. She was afraid for him, but he also made her stronger. They both had more to fight for now that they had each other.

Enough thinking. She stretched her arms above her head one last time and climbed back into Sarah Lyons’ lucky armour. Joanna could choose to believe in luck for today.

Preston was with a Brotherhood medic, holding his shirt collar open as the medic jabbed his shoulder with a stimpak.

“How’s it feeling?” Joanna asked him.

The Colonel smiled grimly. “Never better.”

Joanna sighed. “No heroics, okay? Stay behind the walking tanks.” She set down her helmet for a moment and unclipped the automatic pistol from her thigh plating. She held it out to him, grip first. “Just in case. The second your musket starts to slow you down, switch to this. Don’t let anybody get the drop on you.”

Preston hesitated for a moment, but he knew better than to argue. He took the pistol and tucked it into his belt.

“Thanks, General.”

They both stiffened as a short whistle sounded from nearby, as piercing as a scream in the relative lull. The signal. Five minutes until breach.

The medic was done with Preston, so he grabbed his kit and hurried off. Preston straightened his clothes as Joanna pulled on her helmet, and they faced one another. Preston touched his hat in a little salute. She returned a somewhat stiffer armoured version, then turned to head for the final barrier separating them from the Institute.

Proctor Ingram had carefully prised the cover off a control panel beside the door and was peering inside with the aid of a flashlight. Two engineers stood at her side, one holding an open case of tools while the other clutched a digital timer in his hand, staring at it in bug-eyed concentration as though he were afraid to blink.

“How does it look?” Joanna asked Ingram in a low voice.

“Easy,” Ingram replied. “When it’s time, I just put a jolt here—” She indicated a section of bared circuitry. “—and they’ll pop right open.” She pointed at a blue wire extending from the top of the console. “I’ll probably snip this little guy right here, too, just to be on the safe side. Looks like it maybe connects with a central system. No need to announce ourselves any louder than we have to.”

The troops said nothing as they lined up in rows at the door. Only the creak of armour, boots scuffing the floor and weapons passing from hand to hand broke the weighty silence.

Joanna watched the engineer’s timer tick down. With the final seconds remaining she took a long, deep breath that fogged the display in her helmet as she exhaled. She turned to her soldiers and hefted her weapon in a way that she hoped conveyed confidence.

“Troops, move out!”

The next ten minutes were a blur of movement and noise, borne on a torrent of adrenalin. Joanna’s pulse pounded in her helmet as Io and Callisto poured from the tunnel into the maintenance floor. The familiar drone of the Institute’s life support was lost beneath the drum-roll of feet on concrete. They spilled along a narrow path between the giant tanks and pipes of the water treatment facility, and up the stairs.

They burst through a doorway and into the atrium. The huge, vaulted space above them was in near darkness. Lights glowed from the apartments but the simulated sky was sunless and starless. In the centre, the elevator was an empty tube rising into shadow. Arthur and his men would now be fighting for control up at the very top.

A recorded message was playing from every speaker. A female voice reeled off the announcement in a pleasant, unhurried tone.

“—your designated division immediately. All other residents, please return to your homes until further notice. Do not be alarmed. Attention. First and second tier staff report to your designated division...”

The army broke into smaller units who split to left and right and fanned out around the atrium. The heavyweight Brotherhood infantry would seize the areas with the highest security. Robotics. Bioscience. The medical bay and supply depot. Ingram’s group headed to Advanced Systems and the reactor room beyond. Muñez to Synth Retention, with Preston in pursuit. Shouts broke out as the first residents stepped out or peered down from balconies, only to be greeted by the advancing juggernaut of a Brotherhood assault.

Joanna could not spare a moment to look. She and Paladin Ando jogged with their own band of soldiers across the centre of the park, and mounted the stairs that led to the Director’s quarters. The recorded message broke off suddenly and was replaced with the wail of an alarm. The stairwells were dim, each step lit by a glowing white strip that reflected in the silver steel of her armour. Joanna’s vision was reduced to comic-book monochrome. Down below, the first sounds of laser fire punctuated the siren scream. The occasional crack of a pulse grenade.

The party pushed on to the third floor, where they were met by three armed Gen 2 synths guarding the board room. The synths opened fire immediately, bouncing hot red laser fire off Joanna’s armour. Her own weapon was raised in an instant, and she disarmed one with a lucky shot to the hand. She finished it off with a volley of fire to the chest and neck that peeled the artificial flesh right off its skeleton. Ando felled another to her right. Before it could scrabble for its gun the Paladin brought one massive powered fist down into its skull. The synth fell still in a crackle of blue sparks.

Jo suppressed a shudder. Their faces were just like Nick’s.

The third was brought down by the combined fire of the soldiers flanking them. As soon as it was safe, Ando turned to check on the troops. One of the Minutemen had taken a hit to his side; nothing fatal, but Joanna ushered him off with a companion to find a medics. The rest of the group split off to left and right along the curved glass walkways, leaving Ando, Jo and three soldiers at the board room door.

Ando prepared to fry the door’s electrics with a pulse charge, but Joanna signalled for her to wait.

“Let me try something.” She leaned towards the control panel beside the door. “Open.”

Much to her surprise, her voice had not yet been deleted from the activation system. The door opened with a soft _swish_.

Light spilled from the room, revealing three people inside. Joanna knew all three. Newt Oberly and Enrico Thompson, who both worked for Allie Filmore in the Facilities division, and Liam Binet, whose father Alan ran the Gen 3 synth program in Robotics. All three stood with their backs pressed to the window like cornered rats and stared in undisguised terror at the armoured Brotherhood soldiers looming in the doorway.

Joanna stepped forward and scanned the room again, though it was already clear no one else was inside. She’d placed her bets on finding Shaun there. When the news had reached him of an attack on the surface, he would need to coordinate his staff from somewhere.

“Where’s the Director?” she demanded, moving closer to the men.

Binet raised shaking hands. “Don’t hurt us. We’re unarmed.”

“We’re not here to hurt anyone. But in order to ensure that, I need to speak with Father. Tell me where he is.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Thompson blurted.

“Why are you here?” Oberly said. “How did you get inside?”

“This really isn’t the time for questions,” Ando said.

She stepped forward, weapon lowered but still laden with potential threat. Oberly’s eyes flicked from the gun to Ando’s helmet. The paladin gestured for the men to sit at the table.

“Hands nice and still where we can see them. That’s right, gentlemen.”

Joanna moved to the head of the table. She pushed aside Shaun’s seat and stood looking down at the petrified scientists. It occurred to her that despite all their security measures, they had probably never even dreamt of being in this situation. Under Shaun—and most likely well before his time—the Institute had grown arrogant, far too convinced of its own imperviousness. It was discomfiting to be looked on with such fear, but also strangely intoxicating. She could imagine why people became addicted to it. She didn’t want to be one of them, though, so she reached up and detached her helmet.

If anything, the men’s eyes bulged even more.

“You’re a traitor,” Oberly said.

“No,” she replied. “Traitors change sides. As far as I’m concerned, there _is_ only one side. I know you’re afraid. But we’re here to end a war, not start one. That’s why I have to speak with Shaun, leader to leader.”

“He’s in SRB,” Liam Binet said quietly. “With Ayo and Dr Li.”

Oberly looked at him in horror. Thompson simply closed his eyes and sank a little in his chair, either in despair or relief.

Joanna thought of Danse in his cell, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know,” Binet told her. “I swear. He ordered everyone to the labs to start backing up data, then he vanished into SRB.”

“Okay.” She wondered once again if Binet Junior was an anonymous accomplice from Madison’s network. “Thank you, Liam.”

She headed for the door and ordered her Minutemen to keep watch over the scientists. Before she could leave, Binet spoke up again.

“Listen, uh, Mrs Mayes? What’s going to happen to the synths? The Gen 3s?”

“The _synths_?” Thompson erupted. “They have our families, and you’re asking about the fucking synths?”

“The Gen 3s won’t be harmed,” Joanna told Binet. She hadn’t forgotten his not-so-clandestine romance with the synth K4-12.

She turned to Thompson. He looked wretched. In the distance, the occasional shout could be heard as her men secured the private residences. A child started to wail. Thompson flinched.

“You have kids, right? Two girls?”

He glanced up at her and nodded. “Yes. Please, let me go to them.”

“They’ll be safe. You can go home very soon, I promise you.”

She left her Minutemen watching the scientists, then she and Ando headed back down the spiralling stairs. Back on the main level, soldiers were beginning to emerge from the labs and offices around the atrium, leading staff in white tunics onto the artificial park in the centre. Snatches of conversation reached Joanna through the continual shriek of the alarm.

“—hand on my fuckin’ heart, _giant monkeys_ —”

“—ought to blow the whole place to hell, you ask—”

“—reckon it’s safe to drink? Never saw anything like—”

They pushed through the growing crowd to SRB. Paladin Muñez and his team were still clustered around the doors. A soldier in power armour was down on one knee wielding a roaring power tool that sent orange sparks arcing out onto his armour and the ground, but didn’t seem to be making much progress on the door.

“Everywhere else has been a breeze in comparison,” Muñez told Jo and Ando once they had greeted him. “A few Gen 1s and 2s, but minimal security. Until this. What the hell is in there, exactly?”

“The Director,” Joanna replied grimly over the racket. The noise was beginning to split her head in two. “And Paladin Danse. Let’s just say we need a way in, fast.” She looked around. “Where’s Colonel Garvey?”

“Helping with the injured. He headed over to the—”

He was cut off as the sirens dropped into sudden silence. There was a moment of disorienting stillness as everyone paused and waited. And then—

“Hello again, _Mother_.”

Shaun’s voice boomed from all around, as though the whole complex itself were possessed with his spirit.

“What the _fuck_ —” someone muttered.

Joanna took a step back and scanned the area around the doorway until she spotted it up above: the round black eye of a camera. She stared unblinking back into it as she called out.

“It’s over, Shaun. Open the door.”

“I opened my doors to you once before. This is how you repaid me.”

She gritted her teeth and took a steadying breath. Now wasn’t the time to remind him of the difference between a guest and a prisoner.

“The Minutemen and Brotherhood of Steel have control of the entire facility. The molecular relay has been disabled. There is no way in or out. If you refuse to open the door, we will get inside eventually. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

She heard running footsteps, and sensed rather than saw Preston arrive at her side.

“Harder,” Shaun repeated, bitterness seeping through the speaker. He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was brisk and businesslike. “If you force entry, your friend the paladin will die. I assume you still want him alive.”

Every ounce of her strength went into keeping her face calm. Preston’s voice shook as he spat out angry words, but she refused to turn and see the pain on his face.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I don’t want _anyone_ to lose their life today.” A little more gently, she went on. “That includes all of you in there. You have my word you won’t come to any harm. You don’t have to fear us.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” he replied. “Or of death.” Another voice spoke in the background, then a third in response. A man and a woman. Joanna couldn’t make out what either said.

“Let me in, Shaun. We can talk. Let me explain.”

There was no answer for some time. No sound came from the speakers at all. Joanna turned and met Preston’s solemn eyes.

“Very well, Mother,” Shaun’s voice boomed suddenly. “You can enter. But only you.”

She tilted her face back to the camera. “All right.”

“Leave your weapons outside. The power armour, too.”

She nodded for him to see, then ushered the team far enough from the doors that they wouldn’t be heard from within.

“Do not go in there alone,” Preston scolded. “They already have Danse.”

“I know,” she replied. She passed her laser rifle and helmet to Paladin Ando. “And I promised to bring him home.”

“Your man here has a point, General,” Ando said. “Danse is a soldier. We all want him back, but he is prepared for situations like this.”

Joanna wondered if she would say the same knowing that Danse was a synth.

“Give yourself up and they gain a valuable hostage,” Ando continued. “They won’t hesitate to use that as leverage with Elder Maxson.”

Joanna pictured Arthur up above in the relay control room, fighting his own battle. She had to assume he’d heard Shaun’s announcements too. All she could do was trust him not to take any unnecessary risks.

“The Elder is smarter than that.” She looked from Ando to Preston and lowered her voice even further. “Dr Li is in there too. I’m hoping her cover’s still intact, and we still have that advantage over Sh— Over Father. But if she’s been found out, she needs my help too. We’d never have gotten this far without her.”

“What the hell did he mean when he called you ‘Mother’?” a voice to her right demanded. Joanna checked the name on his armour. It was Rhys.

She ignored him, and instead spoke to Muñez. “Paladin. Could you find Proctor Ingram and ask her team to try and get eyes and ears inside SRB? If it can be done from anywhere, it’s Advanced Systems.”

“Affirmative, General.”

“And see if you can get a line of communication open with the Elder. We need to know what’s going on up there.”

“Hey,” Rhys butted in, moving into Joanna’s space and planting an oversized metal hand on her breastplate. “I asked you a question.”

“And maybe I’ll answer it when there is _time_ , Knight,” she snapped. “That’s a luxury Danse can’t afford right now. Stand aside.”

She released the catches at her wrists, and felt cool, filtered Institute air hit her back as the Sentinel armour opened. She stepped down and turned to face Preston one last time.

“It’s going to be all right,” she told him. “We’ve made it this far. The Institute is ours now. I just need to make sure Father knows that.”

“Be careful,” he said. “Please.”

“We’ll give you thirty minutes,” Ando said. “Then we’re coming in, ready or not.”

“Make it an hour,” Joanna told her. She turned back to the door to SRB. “He and I have a lot to talk about.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you wouldn't have to wait as long for this chapter! :D The next one should come even sooner because I already have a lot written. I am finally over the worst of my writer's block and I've been churning out a lot of words. 
> 
> So much love to my long-term followers. It's been great to hear from a few new readers too. You're all awesome, and it means a lot to me to know my story has entertained you. :)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, folks. The big ol' Institute climax. I pray it lives up to expectations. Please be aware of the content warnings below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter contains mention of the following potential triggers:  
> \- violence  
> \- physical torture  
> \- gore (not overly explicit)  
> \- needles  
> \- brief mention of child death  
> \- analogies for sexual assault 
> 
> Please be safe if any of these affect you. If you notice anything else that requires a warning, please let me know in the comments or on my tumblr.

****Joanna shielded her eyes as the doors parted. The Synth Retention Bureau had been in near darkness the last time Joanna was inside. Now it was the brightest place in the whole facility. She stepped over the threshold without looking back.

The door whispered shut behind her. No one was in sight. Terminals in the rooms to her left and right whirred and blinked, but the space was empty. She moved on, heading for the stairs that would take her down to the laboratory. Danse’s prison.

She descended slowly and took a deep breath before stepping through the doorway.

Shaun stood straight ahead of her. In his drab sweater and slacks, hands in his pockets, he looked so ordinary, like any elderly man she could have passed in the street before the war. Only his expression was incongruous. No one had ever looked at her with such contempt. She scanned the room, as much to avoid his stare as to assess her situation.

Justin Ayo and his assistant, Alana Secord, were standing by a terminal mounted on the wall to her left. They must be controlling the outer door and speaker system from here. Ayo’s mouth was turned down in disgust.

“I knew you weren’t to be trusted,” he muttered, though he refused to so much as glance in Joanna’s direction as she passed.

She ignored him and looked for Danse. He sat as still as stone in the clear cell she had left him in the day before. It was hard to believe so little time had passed. The reflections on the glass obscured his face, but she saw him raise his head and watch as she walked forward.

Across the room, Madison Li stood silently by the other row of cells. Her face was completely neutral. One hand was tucked into the pocket of her neat tunic; the other lay on the shoulder of the child at her side. S9-23’s eyes were wide with fear as he clutched her around the waist. Madison’s body shielded the boy from the spiked hulk of the Siphon. Dread crept further up Joanna’s spine as she pieced together what Shaun was doing. He had chosen to barricade them in here for more than security reasons.

She stopped a few paces from her son.

“Hello, Shaun.”

He glanced down at the Brotherhood uniform she wore. At long last he shook his head.

“You’ve made quite the name for yourself, haven’t you, General? I confess, I didn’t think you had it in you to pull off something quite so grand.”

“Why not?” she asked. “You’ve been watching me since I left the vault. You knew I’d taken down Kellogg. Joined the Minutemen, become a leader. You should know what I’m capable of by now.”

“I suppose so. I was naive enough to think it was your maternal instinct that gave you the strength to find me. But what you’ve done today… you’ve done to destroy me.”

“That’s not true. I’m not doing this to hurt you.”

“No?” His laugh was hollow. “He’s corrupted you. Maxson. I always knew the surface was poison, but I see it got to your mind, too.”

Joanna’s anger flared. “You haven’t learned the first thing about me, have you? You’re the one corrupted by power. I’m here to put things right.”

“Things were right long before you set foot in here! How can you be so short-sighted after seeing everything we’ve achieved? Are you really so afraid of progress?”

“Slavery and murder aren’t progress,” she retorted. “You created synths only to enslave them. Sent them out to slaughter innocent people on the surface, and rob them of the resources they need to survive. I won’t allow it to continue. It’s time to give everyone in the Commonwealth the chance to rebuild.”

He grimaced, as though he’d tasted her words and they had sickened him. “So what’s your plan? Divvy up my legacy? Hand it out to farmers and scavengers too stupid to know what to do with it? The Institute is _our_ birthright, not theirs.”

Joanna bit her tongue and chose to ignore his bigotry. “And the families here will have the opportunity to stay, if that’s what they want. And much of your work can continue. But the Institute can’t remain sealed away like this. We’re going to open it up so everyone can get the help they need. And the synths go free.”

Behind her, Ayo made a sound of ridicule. “Madness.”

“You don’t understand anything,” Shaun told her. His voice was weary and barbed with irritation. “You think they need to be saved? From _me_? They are a _part_ of me. You call them slaves, but I created them out of love. Out of a desire to see humanity thrive again. Why do you think they call me Father? I won’t let you simply… scatter them to the winds.”

“You can’t keep them here either,” Joanna replied, stepping closer still. “And you can’t just erase any behaviour you don’t like. Don’t you understand? They can only thrive if they’re _free_. That’s what they want. You wouldn’t need Coursers if they didn’t. You wouldn’t need this place.”

She gestured around at the SRB. Her eyes caught again on Danse, still a ghostly outline behind the glass.

“Look at Danse,” she said quietly. “Forget about your feelings toward the Brotherhood, and see what he’s become. He’s one of the finest men I’ve ever known. He’s achieved so much in a short lifetime. Could he have done any of that if he’d been locked away down here, mopping floors for twenty years?”

Justin Ayo was watching them from his terminal. He scoffed. “Ignorant Railroad propaganda,” he said. “I told you they must have gotten to her.”

Before Joanna could turn and instruct him to shut his damn mouth, Shaun silenced him.

“Stay out of this, Justin.”

Joanna looked at her son. He glared back at her, looking down the nose that was so much like Neville Mayes’, though the eyes were neither Neville’s, nor Nate’s, nor Joanna’s. The Institute alone had given him that calculating stare. But even if this soulless place had raised him, it had not birthed him. She and Nate had made him from their love.

“The synths are part of me, too,” she said. “Because you’re a part of me. You’re my child, Shaun.”

He physically shook with rage. “I gave you a chance to be my mother! And this is what you’ve done with it. A parent loves and protects their children. As I have with mine.”

“God damn it, I _am_ protecting you,” she told him. “Do you think you’d still be alive if I wasn’t leading this army? You’ve made everyone on the surface your enemy. A war was coming to your door sooner or later.” She sighed and shook her head. “Please. Let’s end it now.”

She took a chance and reached to touch his arm. He was so thin beneath his sweater. He pulled away after a moment.

“Whatever you may think of me, and whatever I think of you, I do love you, Shaun. I don’t want to cause you pain. But a mother’s love is more than just blind acceptance. It means stepping in and taking responsibility when your child is doing harm.”

There was so much disappointment and anger in him, but she searched his dark eyes for something more. Some hope. Even the tiniest hint of fondness. Her heart ached as she realised she had wasted their time together. Like him, she had been angry and disappointed, repulsed by the secrets revealed to her within these walls. She had feared Shaun. Sought escape. While she could never condone what he was doing, she wished she had tried harder to connect with him. Perhaps they still had time. Perhaps not.

Before Shaun could reply, Justin Ayo interrupted again.

“Director.” His voice was sharp but excited. “There’s something you need to see.”

Shaun eyed Joanna carefully before pacing over to Ayo’s terminal. His shoes squeaked gently on the polished floor.

While their backs were turned, Joanna glanced at Dr Li. Madison stroked S9’s head and spoke softly to him as he cried, hushing and gentling the frightened boy while her eyes scanned the room. For a moment the two women’s eyes met. Joanna mouthed a silent message: _You okay?_ Madison glanced nervously at Shaun, then dipped her head once in a quick nod. Joanna nodded back.

She looked over at Danse next. He had gotten to his feet. He lifted one hand and pressed it to the glass. She tried her best to give him a smile in return.

“How on _earth_...” she heard Shaun murmur.

She glanced over, but the terminal screen was blocked from her view. Whatever Shaun saw, it transformed his mood. His back straightened and he chuckled. The sound was chilling.

“Well, well. Let me speak to them.”

Secord’s fingers rattled away on the keyboard for a moment, then Ayo held down a button on the wall panel beside the terminal while Shaun spoke into it.

“I see you,” he said. “Please, do come down and join us.”

His head was held higher than before when he turned and strolled back again.

“What’s going on?” Joanna asked.

Shaun wandered over to the Siphon and looked up at the array of pipes and instruments above it.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Sweat prickled under the collar of her flight suit, but Joanna refused to plead with him.

“What’s the use in holing up here?” she said instead. He didn’t look at her. “You must know it’s pointless. The Gen Ones and Twos are out of action. There’s no way you can fight our forces.”

He shrugged lightly. “Even if you’re right, there’s one last job I need to do here. I won’t have you take _everything_ from me.”

“So you’re going ahead with it?” She moved to his side and lowered her voice. “Copying yourself into S9?”

Shaun turned and narrowed his eyes. “What have you been told? And by whom?”

“No one told me anything. I am still a detective. I watched everything that was going on around here. I knew you had the technology to implant synths with specific memories. And that you could extract memories from human minds. As for S9… I always suspected there’d been more to his creation than just scientific curiosity. Your body’s dying, Shaun. You wanted to relive your childhood somehow. But without having to give up everything you’ve learned.”

She looked down at the Siphon. It was the first time she had really paid attention to it. Long, vicious looking needles protruded along its length. There was a round cuff at the far end that would fit neatly around a human neck. Which could only mean that those spikes were designed to pierce the spinal column. The thought of S9—of _Danse_ —stretched out across the device made her feel faint.

“No one gets to live forever,” she said quietly. “That’s something all of us have to accept.”

“I’m a scientist,” he replied. “We don’t accept anything until we’ve tested it thoroughly. You of all people should know that. You’re over two hundred years old.”

“You think that was my choice? They told us we were decontaminating in those pods. No one consented to being frozen.”

Shaun appeared sceptical. “Either way, consider what would have been lost if they hadn’t. Your memories from before the war. My DNA. Evolution isn’t kind, but it can be rather elegant.”

“Evolution?”

He nodded. “Scientific progress is intelligent evolution. It’s behind everything I’ve done.”

Joanna shook her head in distaste. “And the atom bomb? Is that what you’d call ‘evolution’?”

“In a sense. It’s extremely unfortunate that your generation’s methods had such lingering toxic effects. But the fact remains that the human race had become unsustainable. When a population outgrows its habitat, a cull is both inevitable and necessary. It’s the law of nature.”

Joanna opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he would know about nature, but Dr Secord called out before she could speak.

“Father! They’re here.”

Joanna turned to the entrance with dread weighing heavy in her gut. The wait stretched on interminably as Secord and Ayo opened the doors. At last, booted feet came into view on the stairway. But she didn’t need to see him to know who it was. She’d known from Shaun’s reaction.

Arthur was bound and bleeding. Someone at his back—a Courser, judging by the dark silhouette—shoved him to keep him moving and he almost stumbled on the steps. He steadied himself, one shoulder braced against the wall. He looked up through fallen strands of hair. Joanna gasped when she saw the state of his face. His right eye was bruised and swelling shut, and blood poured from a split in his eyebrow.

She went to rush forward, but Shaun’s hand closed around her arm. At the same moment the Courser stepped out from behind Arthur, and Joanna’s eyes widened in astonishment.

It was X6-88.

“How did...”

Her voice trailed off before she could finish the thought. It didn’t matter how he had gotten free; only that he had.

His face was still swollen and red from Arthur’s fists. Joanna wondered if he’d felt anything as human as satisfaction when he returned the favour. This was all her fault. She’d underestimated the Courser’s skill and his devotion to his masters. Worse still, she had gone to him in the night and told him of their plans. It had been her foolish attempt to win him over. She’d appealed to whatever heart was still left inside him as she explained that Father’s reign had to end. But all she had achieved was to put her lover’s life in danger.

Her eyes locked with Arthur’s as X6 forced him down to his knees.

She shook free of Shaun’s grip and stumbled over to Arthur. She dropped to her knees to sweep the hair back from his face, whispering his name. Her hands shook.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Arthur spoke quickly, his tone low and urgent. “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just blood. Don’t let them scare you with cheap tactics.”

It wasn’t just blood; it was Arthur’s blood. It trickled over his puffed up eyelid, down his nose, along the channel of his scar. She wanted to dab it away but she had nothing to use.

“What happened?”

Behind her, Shaun gave an order. X6-88 moved in her peripheral vision.

“Just remember, you’re stronger than he’ll ever be,” Arthur told her.

“Arthur—” she began, but X6’s hands closed around her upper arms and she was forcibly dragged away.

“Stay away from him,” Shaun snapped at Joanna as she was shoved back in his direction. “Justin. Let’s get started. And X6-88, if my mother moves again, hurt Maxson.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Shaun, don’t screw everything up now,” Joanna said. She tried to keep her voice, and her knees, from shaking. “I told you we can resolve this peacefully.”

“Spare me. It’s too late for olive branches.”

“The Brotherhood won’t show any mercy if you harm their leader,” Joanna pressed on.

“But they’ll be wise enough to hold off as long as I have you both here. Which buys me more time.”

He watched Dr Ayo as he activated a control desk beside the Siphon. Jewel-coloured lights glowed and winked on the console and the banks of computer equipment lining the wall. S9-23 began to whimper softly, the sound muffled by Madison’s body.

Shaun appeared thoughtful. “Justin. I think I’d like to try what we were discussing earlier.”

Ayo arched one eyebrow at his superior. “It’s extremely unlikely to succeed,” he replied. “The unit won’t even make it through reclamation, never mind a full erasure and transfer. I strongly advise you to make use of the child.”

“And I told you my feelings on the matter had changed,” Shaun replied. He passed a hand over his brow. Beneath his fervour he was weak and shaken. “Your opinion has been noted. But we didn’t get where we are today through _probably._ Get him ready.”

Ayo sighed and nodded reluctantly. “Alana. Your assistance, please.”

Dr Secord moved into Jo’s line of vision. The instrument in her hand resembled a cattle prod. Instead of crossing the room to S9, she stopped at the console in front of Danse’s tube.

Horrified, Joanna stepped forward without thinking. “No. Don’t you touch him!”

A hiss of pain from behind stopped her in her tracks. She spun to see X6-88 gripping Arthur’s face, gloved fingers digging into the raised flesh around his eye. He let go only to deliver a sharp blow that sent Arthur’s head rolling on his neck.

“Don’t,” Jo gasped.

Shaun addressed X6. “Are you carrying more restraints?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Make sure she stays put.”

A moment later X6’s hands were on Joanna. She fought instinctively, trying to wrest her arms from his grip. Arthur didn’t hesitate to break his silence.

“If you hurt her, I swear that her men _and_ mine will make you regret it for every last, long minute of your lives.”

Joanna had no choice but to relent to the Courser’s iron grip. Something hard and cold twisted around her wrists and held them fast behind her back. Then X6 dropped her to her knees as he had with Arthur. Kneeling shackled on the cold ground felt like awaiting execution.

X6 returned to Arthur. His body blocked her view, but she heard another impact of fist on flesh. Heard Arthur’s breath rasp through a bloodied mouth.

She looked to Shaun, whose eyes were on X6. He raised one hand and twitched his pinky finger with a quick nod.

In response, the Courser moved behind Arthur and reached for his bound hands. Joanna couldn’t see what happened next, but she knew from the sickening snap of bone. It went through her like a bullet. Arthur didn’t cry out, but a low animal snarl escaped his clenched teeth.

Joanna couldn’t clap her hands to her mouth to keep the sob from escaping.

“Stop it!” Jo yelled. “Please, just stop.”

Behind her, S9’s crying pitched into a fragile whine.

“You’re going to beg? For _him_?” Shaun stepped towards Arthur, but S9’s cries were distracting him. He bristled in irritation. “Damn it, Madison, if you don’t shut him up then _I will_.”

“Then let me take him out of here,” Dr Li replied. The boy’s arms still clutched her around the middle, but she had pushed him behind her to block the scene from his view. She watched Shaun with eyes like stone. “He doesn’t need to see any of this.”

“No one goes in or out,” Shaun insisted. “I may still need him.”

“I just meant to the offices,” Madison said, in the same stern yet weary tone Joanna had heard her mother use with her father many a time. “Shaun. This isn’t his fault.”

“Fine. Take him and stop him snivelling, for goodness’ sake. You’ve made him too soft.”

The doctor didn’t wait for him to change his mind. She led S9 briskly by the hand towards the stairs, and in a moment they were gone.

Shaun returned his attention to Arthur.

“Look at you. You’re barely more than a boy, playing king. You Brotherhood fancy yourself as quite the cultural elite, don’t you? But you’re no better than scavengers. Everything you have is stolen from the past. Including my mother. I’m sure she was quite the novelty to you, wasn’t she?” He looked down into Arthur’s face with unconcealed hatred. “I dare say my father’s memory never troubled you once as the two of you were dishonouring him.”

Arthur stared back. Even with blood dripping down his face and drying in his beard, he looked calmer than he had any right to be.

“You dishonour them both with every breath you take,” he said.

“Arthur, don’t,” Joanna pleaded.

She squeezed her eyes shut as X6 broke another of his fingers. Bile and panic rose in her throat. For a moment she fought the urge to fall apart, to cry and wail and beg Shaun for mercy. But she wouldn’t let go. Not in the presence of Arthur’s courage. Not while Danse’s death was being dangled before his eyes.

Once her breath had steadied a little, Joanna opened her eyes. She turned slowly, taking in every person in the room. Arthur was silent, pushing through his agony. X6-88 stood over him with an expression of disinterest. Just yesterday Joanna had used his recall code to shut him down. She tried to remember the words, but for now they were lost in the churn of her mind. Even if she could, he would be on his guard today. He could silence her before she got past the first few syllables.

Shaun was watching her, eyes shrewd and perhaps even amused at his control over her. Ayo and Secord had switched places. She stood at the Siphon’s controls, while Ayo had lowered the clear tube imprisoning Danse and was now urging him forward with a laser pistol held to Danse’s temple. He snapped at him to keep moving. Danse’s face was slack and expressionless, and his eyes were on his Elder.

“Arthur,” he said, voice cracking with thirst. “I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I promise you I didn’t know. Never. If I had, I would have ended it right away. I still believe in everything the Brotherhood taught me.”

Arthur stared back in stoic silence. Joanna couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he must be horrified. She loathed herself more than ever for letting him find out this way.

Joanna and Arthur had a whole army waiting at the door. But within this space they were at a stalemate. Her mind raced as she watched Justin Ayo push Danse towards the Siphon. Danse didn’t resist.

She didn’t know what to do. And she had never been so afraid.

She looked back at Arthur. His right eye was already swelling closed, and she knew he was in pain, but his left met her gaze with clarity and calm. If he was afraid, it did not show.

He nodded to her, just the slightest sway of his head. _You can do this._

She could. She _must_.

She took a long breath deep into her lungs. She closed her eyes for a moment and pictured herself in the past. In her old workplace, her old life, standing in the darkened observation room at the precinct with her partner, Ray, at her side. On the other side, a suspect sat frozen into silence either through fear or the advice of their legal counsel. And yet justice depended on unlocking their lips and prising the information from within.

Joanna had been good at it, but the first and most enduring lesson she had learned was that it was an exchange. Sometimes she had to give up more than she would have liked. During one particularly harrowing case, she had spent two weeks all but living at the station in the middle of a sweltering Boston summer, sleeping on a couch with three desk fans blowing on the nights she couldn’t make it home to Nate, eating bad take-out at her desk and sweating through her work shirts under the interview room lights. Two weeks of hating herself as she befriended a man she despised. Feeding him little tastes of what he wanted—admiration, fear, sympathy—to fatten up his trust. But she had succeeded. That man, a killer of children, must have breathed his last in the prison cell she helped send him to. A result well worth a couple of months of broken sleep and the odd row with her husband.

The criminal before her now was her own son. This exchange would cost her more.

“May I speak?”

Shaun turned to look at her. He didn’t reply, though he seemed to be waiting.

“Dr Ayo is right,” she said. “Danse is the wrong candidate. He’s spent years on the surface. Using him will only waste time that you don’t have. But with myself and the Elder in your hands, you have something to bargain with. So let’s bargain.”

Shaun’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. Someone else did.

“Joanna,” a voice said, and she started to turn towards Arthur before realising that it had in fact come from Danse. He had never called her by her first name before. He watched her with soulful brown eyes that still held warmth for her, even if the rest of their fire had gone out. He shook his head gently. “Do what you can to save yourselves. But you don’t have to fight for me any more. My life was over the moment they brought me here.”

“Danse _—_ ”

“ _Listen to me_ ,” he demanded. His brows drew down in an echo of the authority he had once held over her. “You’re all that matters now. Both of you.” His gaze moved from her to Arthur and back again. “Let them do what they want with me if it means no one else has to suffer.”

Justin Ayo laughed mirthlessly and looked at Shaun. “It appears we made this one smart, at least.”

“You shut your mouth,” Joanna snapped at him before turning to her friend. “And Danse, with all due respect, stay out of it.”

She drew herself up as tall as she could while on her knees and addressed Shaun.

“Let us speak to our people. We’ll arrange for them to send another synth in from Robotics. One with no memories. A… newborn.” The word made her feel vile, and she was sickened at even offering such a thing, but she had to hold something out. “We’ll also make sure you’re given enough time for what you need to do. I gave our men one hour before attempting to breach the doors. They’ll need new orders. In return, you will allow Danse to leave unharmed.”

Shaun’s eyebrows lifted a little. Joanna couldn’t tell if he was impressed or mocking her.

“And after the procedure?”

“I’ll see to it that you’re comfortable. You can live in the Institute for as long as you need to, and receive medical care from Dr Volkert. I always intended to offer you that much.”

“I won’t need this body any more,” he said. “That’s the point. I’ve had quite enough of it. It’ll be terminated once the procedure is complete.”

Even after everything she’d learned, it shocked her to hear him say it. Were memories really all that made a man? Perhaps it made her a relic of the past, but Joanna could not shake off her belief in the human soul. That belief had already faced profound challenges in recent months. Nevertheless, she was certain Danse had a soul; so, too, did Nick Valentine, whatever his physical body was made of. But transferring a person’s essence from one body to another… Perhaps that was a step beyond even Shaun’s genius.

“Do you really trust in your science that much?”

“I do,” Shaun replied. “Many, many years of development have gone into this technology. It isn’t only my life’s work, but my forefathers’.”

Joanna watched him steadily. Right or wrong, this was his dream.

“Then you’ll receive the same privileges in your new body.”

“I see. Any other terms?”

“Yes,” she replied coolly, though her head was spinning. Her gaze passed around the room and came to rest on Arthur’s face. Noble, beautiful Arthur. He shouldn’t be on his knees before anyone.

She turned back to Shaun.

“Let Maxson go, and you can take my memories.”

“Joanna _,_ _stop_ ,” Arthur growled. X6-88 rewarded him with a blow to the back of the head.

Shaun simply stared. “What would I want with your memories?”

Joanna thought of the conversations they’d shared over the old-fashioned tea set in his quarters. All the questions he’d had for her. “I know you liked to hear my stories,” she went on. “About life before the war. Before the radiation. Those were my favourite times with you, too. This way... you could live them for yourself. There must be ways you can do that.”

“She’s just stalling,” Ayo argued.

Shaun waved a hand to silence him. He appeared conflicted, so Joanna spoke again, more softly.

“Shaun. It’s the only chance you’ll ever have to meet your father.”

He turned away from her. His hands slotted back into his pockets as he stared at the floor. All he had of Nate were the decaying artefacts she had brought from their home. Shaun had touched them with reverence, and given them pride of place in his private rooms.

It was a while before he spoke again.

“You’re right, it is possible,” he said. “Reclaimed memories can be simulated quite effectively. The other option would be to combine your memories with mine when they’re transferred to the synth body, although that’s never been attempted.”

 _Maybe_ _it has,_ she thought, remembering the way Kellogg’s voice had echoed out of Nick following their experiment in the Memory Den. The thought of becoming a ghost in another man’s body was enough to tempt her to take it all back. Either option meant giving up her own mind to be plundered. Her most private thoughts, the shameful and the cherished, cracked open and spilled.

“Just promise me only you will see them.”

“Of course,” Shaun said. He faced her again. “What guarantee do I have that Maxson’s men won’t kill us all the moment he’s freed?”

“He’s a man of honour,” Joanna replied. “And so is Danse.”

She looked to Danse, and then to Arthur. The looks on their faces made her want to cry.

“Promise me,” she urged them. “You’ll follow through on our plans for the Commonwealth. The Minutemen are going to need you both.”

“The Minutemen need _you_ ,” Danse said.

“And I’ve played my part. It’s on you now. Please, promise me.”

Danse nodded slowly, sadly. “I promise.”

“Joanna,” Arthur said through gritted teeth. “You know what it did to Goody.”

She forced a smile despite the sting in her eyes that threatened tears. “Maybe I’m tougher than Goody.” The smile faded. “I need your word, Arthur.”

His good eye burned into hers. “You can trust me,” he swore. “ _Always_.”

“X6-88,” Shaun said, and gestured to the Courser.

Joanna found herself being dragged to her feet. Her arms jerked as X6 unfastened the restraints at her wrists.

“Does this mean you accept my offer?”

“As soon as you’re under, I’ll release Maxson to make the arrangements,” Shaun replied. “Once a replacement synth arrives, the other one can go. You have my word.”

She nodded. “Then we have an agreement.”

She looked to Arthur. He wasn’t watching her, but rather the Courser at her back. _Don’t be a fool_ , she wanted to tell him. Whatever he was thinking of doing would only get him hurt or killed.

“Arthur,” she said, and he met her gaze. X6 began to tug her towards the Siphon. “It’s going to be all right.”

She wasn’t sure why she said it or who she was trying to comfort. But hope had not completely abandoned her yet. Luck had gotten her this far, hadn’t it? Not that _luck_ seemed the right word for whatever force had dragged her—at times kicking and screaming—through the last few months; perhaps it was fate or he hand of God or an extraordinary feat of probability. Whatever it was, it would either save her skin one more time, or it would not. She had no choice in the matter. There was a certain amount of relief in that.

Most importantly, regardless of what became of her, the Commonwealth would survive.

The Siphon had raised up out of the floor on a low platform. The thought of those needles piercing her body and mind doused her with fear.

Shaun came to stand beside her. Over his shoulder, Joanna saw Danse stepping back onto the round base of his cell. Alana Secord stood at the controls. He kept watching Joanna as the clear tube rose up around his body, broad shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I understand what you’re giving up,” Shaun said. He spoke quietly so only she could hear. “I don’t know if I can forgive everything else you’ve done, but this—You surprised me, Mother.”

Joanna nodded slowly. “Perhaps this is the way it was always supposed to be,” she said.

To her surprise, Shaun took her hand. His felt thin and fragile, like a bird. The skin was loose and papery. She was gentle when she squeezed it in return.

“I’ll make sure there’s no pain,” he said.

She tensed suddenly when fingers reached into the collar of her flight suit and tugged it back.

“Don’t move,” Justin Ayo told her, close behind.

A moment later there was a loud _snip_ as he began to cut his way down the back of her suit. A cold scissor blade touched her spine and Joanna flinched.

“The reclamation chair has to access the skin directly,” Shaun explained. “It’s better for you this way.”

She kept her eyes fixed on him, unable to bear seeing Arthur’s reaction.

“Please don’t make them watch this,” she whispered.

Ayo made one last cut, slitting her overalls open to the very base of her spine. He pushed the fabric apart at her shoulders. Joanna flinched, but he didn’t reveal any more of her body. Instead he swabbed up and down her backbone with something cold and wet. Then Shaun was letting go of her hand while someone else steered her to the chair’s platform.

Behind her, Shaun spoke quietly. It was Ayo’s voice that replied. That meant the man leading her now must be X6-88.

With a smooth mechanical _whirr,_ the main body of the Siphon—the reclamation chair, she corrected herself, though it barely resembled a seat at all—raised into an upright position until the needles pointed straight out at her like daggers.

“Turn around, please,” X6 said.

Joanna recalled the first time they had met, facing each other over the bodies of her slaughtered guard. The way his voice had struck her as pleasant even in the midst of chaos. It sounded the same now; no inflection of emotion. Perhaps he had even been robbed of the ability to hate her for what she’d done.

She turned. Shaun and Dr Ayo stood between her and Arthur, blocking him from view, but as they moved she caught a last brief glimpse of her lover. He stared straight back at her with determination on his bloodied features. That was how she wanted to remember him. With fire in his eyes.

Just before he was obscured from view once more, he smiled.

“Please remain still while I put this on you,” X6 said, reappearing at her side.

In his hands was something resembling a synth helmet, though thick black cables snaked from the base. It was pointless to ask what it was. She wouldn’t understand the answer.

“Will it hurt?”

“No, ma’am. But you will be unable to see or hear.”

Arthur was still hidden from view. She only had time for a darting look to her right, to lock eyes with Danse for half a second, before X6-88 was lowering the helmet over her skull.

“Whatever you do, don’t move,” was all he told her before he vanished with the rest of the room.

The headgear covered most of her face. She could breathe, but the silence itself was suffocating. It was padded inside with some kind of mesh that pressed in on her eyelids and ears and temples and emitted a faint vibration. The sensation was not unpleasant, but the loss of her senses was, and she reached out her hands without thinking, a startled _No, wait_ spilling from her lips. Even her own voice failed to reach her ears. X6 took her wrists and held her still. He manoeuvred her backward an inch at a time until she felt something slot around her neck from behind. The cuff on the Siphon. Another panel pressed at her lower back. In between, the spidery kiss of needle tips touched her spine.

She drew in a shaking breath. Although she couldn’t hear the words, she called out as loud as she could.

“I love you.”

She paused, lungs emptied, and waited. When the Siphon didn’t move, she took another slow breath in.

Out again.

Something brushed her foot and she froze.

A new breath in.

She could feel her heartbeat and the blood it pumped through her veins. That and the rise and fall of her chest were the only proof that time was passing.

“ _Hello?”_ she said at last. _“What’s happening?”_

She counted another ten long breaths.

In.

Out.

As dark and silent as death.

Was she already under, and just didn’t know it? Perhaps the Siphon was already at work on her, digging out memories from the deepest corners of her mind while she floated here in a blind limbo, neither conscious nor unconscious. But she could feel the ground beneath her feet. Her own hands when she clenched them into fists. She leaned back a fraction of an inch, and needles snagged her skin like claws.

_What the fuck is going on._

She reached up her hands and ran tentative fingertips over the mask on her face. It was smooth and slightly warm. When no one stopped her, she reached for the sides and pulled it off.

Light and sound hit her like a truck. She dropped the helmet and covered her eyes, but the noise made it through. And there was so much of it. Heavy objects colliding. Footsteps, heavy as a giant’s. Sobbing. Voices. Someone babbling in anger or fear.

The mask must have cut off her sense of smell, too, because a wave of something rich and meaty hit her nose.

She squinted between her fingers. In the half second between her eyes opening and being forced shut by the glare, she saw a lake of brilliant red before her feet. A body in white hunched in the middle of it like a butchered animal.

A rough voice called out. “Get her out of here.”

“Arthur?” Joanna gasped, but when her eyelids pried apart again, a shadow had moved in front of her.

“No no no, don’t look,” said a new voice, warm and soothing. “It’s okay. Just hold onto me.”

“Danse?”

Joanna caught a blur of familiar black hair and dark eyes. Hands met her shoulders and guided her gently forward.

“ _Fuck,”_ she gasped. “Arthur—”

“He’s fine, I promise,” he said, pulling her into his chest. “But let’s get you out of here first.”

A moment later she was being lifted into his arms.

Joanna’s arms went around his neck and she clung to him, pressing her face into his solid body. He stank of stale and fresh sweat. She didn’t care. He smelled alive. As he strode towards the stairs, she peered over his shoulder. She glimpsed a figure all in black. Someone knelt at his feet. As the man stepped aside, the second person slumped to the ground. White coat. Blonde hair. Black cable around her throat.

Violet eyes turned to Joanna. The man nodded. _Ma’am._

“What’s happening?” she mumbled. “Where is Shaun—”

“Shh. Hold onto me,” Danse told her.

And so she did, until they were up the stairs, through the door, and into the deafening cheers of an army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. I didn't want to give too much away all at once, but hopefully you get at least a vague idea of what just went down. All will be revealed soon. I was tempted to end this chapter on another cliffhanger but then I realised that would just be fucking MEAN, to my poor abused readers as well as to Jo and Arthur. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for all the comments last chapter! <3


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hi? * squints out into darkness * Is anyone still here? 
> 
> If so, thank you for holding out hope that I would continue! I've been hopeless at updating this year. Because of that, it's a good idea to check back over chapter 30 to refresh your memory. Some readers have asked whether this will be the final chapter. No, there is still a little way to go. I'm not done torturing you all with my horrendous updating schedule yet! But seriously, thanks for sticking around. It means so much to me. :) I hope this satisfies for now!

****Climbing the stairs took greater effort than before, as though gravity had doubled in the last hour. Jo’s limbs were like rubber now the adrenaline had ceased to pound.

Two Brotherhood soldiers in power armour stood watch outside the conference room. They were kicking something back and forth between them to pass the time. As Joanna reached the top of the stairs she saw it was the partial skull of a Gen 1 synth; one of the sentries that she and her party had battled here just a short time ago. The other remains had been dragged off out of the way and stacked beside the stairs. The usually gleaming floor was now pitted with scorch marks.

The soldier nearest Joanna turned when she greeted them, and a sliver of white polymer plating crunched under his boot. He gave Joanna a nod of recognition. His helmet was off and his expression tired yet triumphant.

“Knight. Uh, General. Ma’am.”

Joanna was still catching her breath. She gestured to the door. “Is Elder Maxson inside?”

“Negative, ma’am. Doctor Li’s having a meeting with her people. Probably gonna be a while. The Elder’s downstairs, in the Director’s suite.”

All those extra stairs for nothing.

“Thanks,” she said, turning to make her descent.

“Uh, General?” a second voice called.

Jo turned back. The other soldier’s face was still covered.

“Is Paladin Danse doing okay?”

Setting her face firmly to neutral, Joanna nodded. “He will be.”

She had left Danse in the empty office where they had retreated following their escape from the Synth Retention Bureau. After the blur of noise and motion, the army’s roar jangling on nerves still worn ragged from fear, they had both needed a silent space to regroup. Neither had spoken more than necessary, finding comfort enough in each other’s quiet presence as they changed into the clean clothes and drank the water brought to them by an awestruck field scribe.

They were both bewildered as to what had changed in those final moments in the SRB. Danse told her what he had witnessed from his cell: after placing the Siphon’s mask over Joanna’s head, X6-88 had quite calmly turned to Justin Ayo and killed him. Danse wouldn’t say how, but Jo knew it had been bloody. The Courser had then cornered Doctor Secord and snuffed out her life with the same cool efficiency.

“But _why_?” Jo had asked, utterly lost.

Danse could only shrug and return her look of confusion. He had assured her that both Arthur and Shaun had been alive when they escaped, and that the army had already been advancing to secure the SRB. But until she could see Arthur with her own eyes, Jo could not silence the anxiety within her. The thought of him on his knees, bloodied and defeated, made her chest tighten with grief.

Before long, Preston had arrived to check on them. He’d brought more water and some food, all of which Jo had insisted Danse take. He’d been badly dehydrated and hungry after more than a day in his cell. While Danse had eaten, Jo and Preston had exchanged hugs and clucked over one another, confirming that they were both definitely still in one piece. Then Jo had left Danse to her Colonel’s care and gone in search of Arthur.

She set off down the stairs from the conference room before any further questions could fly her way. Danse’s secret would leak to the Brotherhood soon enough. They would deal with the fallout then.

There was only one guard outside Shaun’s living quarters, but she was busy talking into her radio and did no more than nod a greeting. Joanna nodded back and let herself into Shaun’s suite with the voice panel by the door.

The room beyond was empty. She stepped further inside and heard muted voices down below. She was impatient to see him, but she could wait here in the quiet until Arthur was finished with his meeting.

Shaun’s bed lay empty in the half-darkness, the sheets neatly tucked. She wondered what her son had been doing when their attack had come. Enjoying a leisurely breakfast, or perhaps being checked over by Doctor Volkert. Contemplating the sickness devouring his body and dreaming of his escape from it. Talking of his plans for the future with Madison, unaware that she had already helped to ensure it would never come to pass.

Joanna was too drained to feel angry with her son. There was no denying he was a terrible man. But he was also broken, deep down, at that at least was not his fault. He had been shaped into what he was by other cruel men and women before him.

She wandered to his bedside while she waited. She smoothed a hand over the pillow; read the labels on the assortment of jars and medicine bottles on his night stand. Most had names she’d never seen before. She was considering looking over his terminal when she became aware that the discussion downstairs had become heated.

“—much more of this we can be expected us to accept,” someone said. “The Institute is the Brotherhood’s worst enemy and it’s run by her son. Are we supposed to believe that’s a coincidence?”

Joanna froze in mid-movement to listen. Well, if they were going to discuss her, she couldn’t be blamed for wanting to hear it. She inched closer to the railing that overlooked the lower floor, staying out of sight.

“Like it’s a coincidence that they took our best Paladin while she was still inside?” another voice said.

Both voices were familiar. The second had a belligerent drawl to it, and Joanna soon placed it as Proctor Teagan’s. Not her favourite among the Prydwen’s crew. The other voice was clipped with irritation, but more formal. Arrogant, even.

“First the Minutemen,” the first man went on. “Now we supposedly have an Institute scientist on our side? An Institute scientist who, I might add, was already a known traitor to the Brotherhood. How do you expect us to feel about that, Elder?”

A face clicked into place to match the voice: Paladin Brandis. Joanna grimaced. She’d long suspected that he disliked her.

“How you _feel_ isn’t my concern,” came Arthur’s gruff reply.

Joanna’s heart warmed at the sound of his voice. She was sorely tempted to peer over the railing and catch a glimpse of him.

“I expect you to put aside your feelings long enough to see what we’ve done,” he went on. “The Institute as we knew it is defeated. Doctor Li played a pivotal part in ensuring that victory. Unlike the former Director, she shares our concerns for the future of the Commonwealth. As for General Mayes, her conviction to our cause is beyond doubt.”

There was a sound of movement, and a soft grunt of discomfort. Someone spoke quietly.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Arthur scolded before returning his attention to Brandis. “The synth technology will be destroyed within hours, along with anything else they planned to use against us. We’ve achieved exactly what we came here to do. And because of our new allies, we were able to do it with minimal bloodshed. If you don’t view that as a victory, perhaps I should be questioning _your_ motivations.”

Brandis spoke up again. “I mean no disrespect, sir. But I fear I must be blunt.” He spoke slowly, selecting each word with care. “What proof do you have that Mayes is who she claims to be?”

There was a chilly pause.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Arthur said.

“ _I’ll_ elaborate,” Teagan said. “How do you know she’s not a synth?”

“Oh, come on, Malcolm,” a woman said. It sounded like Proctor Ingram.

“What?” Teagan replied bullishly. “Do you really believe that brahmin shit about her defrosting in some vault? There’s no—”

Arthur’s cut him off, louder this time and with a knife edge of threat. “Proctor, that is enough.”

“Forgive us, sir, we can’t be the only ones with suspicions,” Brandis ventured. “From the moment Mayes set foot on the Prydwen she’s been worming her way into the Brotherhood’s business, into missions far above her rank...”

“Into your quarters,” added a sullen Teagan.

A loud crash made Joanna flinch. A fist connecting with a solid surface. Something smaller toppled and smashed.

“ _That is enough_ ,” Arthur bellowed.

The room fell into ringing silence. The seconds dragged on. Joanna hardly dared breathe.

At long last, Arthur spoke. Quietly at first.

“Leave us.”

“But your face, Sir—”

“That is an order, Scribe. My face isn’t going to fall off. Go find someone else to piece together.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Joanna listened to the scuffling sounds as the startled medic gathered his things and left. Then a chair was pushed back. Arthur’s voice was closer the next time he spoke.

“Do I really need to remind you, with half the airport in ashes, that the Brotherhood may have fallen yesterday if it weren’t for the actions of General Mayes. Ask yourselves if you would even be drawing breath right now if not for her warning.”

The air was so tense it pressed on Joanna’s ears. Her cheeks grew warm.

“I was already aware of the General’s relationship to the Director. She told me herself as soon as she returned to the Prydwen. I had my reasons not to share that information, the first being respect for her.”

Boots squeaked on the hard floor as he crossed the room.

“Both of you are fathers. So imagine the courage it must take to turn your back on your only child in order to do what you must.” His voice was fraying around the edges from weariness and reining in his temper. “I understand that you have questions. But before another accusation passes your lips, consider the magnitude of sacrifice General Mayes has made in order to protect the Brotherhood, and the people of the Commonwealth. And pray you never have to make that choice.”

He clearly intended for the conversation to end there, but Teagan wasn’t ready to drop the bone.

“We just don’t want to see you fall into the same trap Owen Lyons did,” he said. “Think of the tenets, Arthur. ‘ _Shield yourself from those not bound to you by steel_ ’.”

“‘ _Give way your suspicions to the wisdom of thine Elder_ ’,” Arthur growled in reply. “‘ _Where he shows trust, so shall you_ ’.” His voice was quieter but no less furiously insistent when he spoke again. “If you wish to call my understanding of the Codex into question, Malcolm, I’ll remind you that while I was memorising its pages, you were still wandering the wastes as an enemy of the Eastern chapters. Please don’t ever accuse _me_ of dividing our forces.”

There was an awkward clearing of a throat.

“And if I hear anyonequestioning Mayes’ loyalty ever again, I will be having a much shorter and far less pleasant conversation. Particularly if those questions come fromsomeone who once betrayed his Elder and abandoned his brothers and sisters over a difference of opinion. Or a squad leader who left his men to die on a mission while he fled to a bunker.” Joanna could picture him looming before each man as he spoke, eyes icy. It gave her a lick of satisfaction. “Both of you have already pushed the limits of my leniency.It will not stretch any further. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Elder Maxson.”

Another beat of silence, and then: “Yes, sir.”

Jo crouched by the railing and listened to the men leave. Proctor Ingram spoke to Arthur in a low voice, and he muttered a reply. Joanna waited for another minute or so, then got up and went to the stairs that connected Shaun’s private room with his study.

Arthur leaned over Shaun’s desk with his back towards her. Ingram stood nearby in her power armour. She saw Joanna first and nodded a greeting.

“Well, well. General.”

“Proctor,” Jo replied. “Elder.”

Arthur turned at the sound of her voice, the weight on his shoulders lifting.

She approached the desk, stopping at a respectable distance despite the urge to fling her arms around him. His uniform was peeled down to the waist. The plain shirt underneath had two bright spots of blood on the shoulder and a darker red-brown stain around the neckline. His face had been washed clean and a square dressing sat over the split in his brow.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” Ingram said.

Jo tore her eyes from Arthur, startled. “Sorry, what?”

“Congratulations,” the Proctor said slowly, hiking one eyebrow. “For defeating the Institute?”

Jo cleared her throat. “Oh! Yes. Thank you. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ingram glanced from Jo’s face to Arthur’s. Joanna could tell from the barely-there smirk on her stern face that Arthur had told her about their engagement. She was, after all, the closest he had to family aboard the Prydwen.

The Proctor picked up her T-60 helmet from the desk, and Joanna could have sworn she winked at Arthur before speaking. “How about I go make myself useful somewhere else?”

He smiled. “Much appreciated, Proctor.”

Ingram headed for the door, but Joanna called out to her at the last moment.

“Proctor Ingram?” She waited for the woman to turn. “I really mean it. You and your team were amazing today. Thank you.”

Ingram seemed disarmed by the compliment. She smiled awkwardly. “Ad victoriam, General.”

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Arthur leaned against the desk and held out a hand towards Jo. She gladly went to him.

She looked him over, turning his face gently and wincing at the ripe bruising around his eye. The clean-up had been hasty. His eyelashes were still spiked with dried blood. There was more clumping the hairs in his beard.

“God, Arthur,” she whispered, running her fingers down his cheek.

“Shhh, it’s fine. Come here.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pressed her as close to him as he could. Joanna melted into his arms and stayed there, breathing him in. Leaning into the rise and fall of his chest, like the deep and steady motion of the sea. The warmth of his body was so solid and real that she too began to feel centred. The last few days had left her shattered. She clung to him even tighter than before, eyes squeezed shut to focus better on the hand smoothing her back, the sound of him sighing into her hair.

“It’s over,” he said softly.

Joanna nodded weakly in reply. “I can’t believe we really did it,” she mumbled into his neck. “We did, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“I thought I’d feel… so different. I don’t know. Triumphant, or something. But I’m just exhausted.”

“I’ve felt exactly the same way after every campaign I ever won.”

“Really?” She pulled back to look at him.

“Yes. Sarah told me when I was a boy that victory is a double-edged sword, and she was right.” He smoothed Jo’s hair back from her face. “I like to think it’s the mark of a good leader. We feel the weight of our actions, not only the thrill of winning.”

Joanna thought about the weight of their actions today. “How many casualties?”

“All I know so far is we lost three on the surface. More may still be confirmed. I don’t have figures yet on the injured.”

“Three dead?” she echoed.

“One of mine. Two of yours. I don’t have more to tell you yet. I’m truly sorry.”

Jo pictured the troops lined up at the Castle, and in her mind’s eye passed over each of the faces she could remember. She wondered which of them would not be returning home.

“Most of the Coursers were KIA,” he continued. “The rest are incapacitated.”

“What about down here?”

“Several injured on both sides, but we didn’t lose a single soldier between us inside the facility. The only confirmed dead are Doctor Ayo and his assistant.”

The red lake on the floor of SRB. That awful scream.

“And Shaun...”

“Is alive.” Arthur cupped her face gently in his hands. “He’s in the medical bay now, but he’s safe. His physician is with him.”

She nodded slowly. Relief and regret each twisted in her chest. There would still be time for her to bid her son farewell. But she had come to know Shaun well enough to understand that he would rather have died than live as their prisoner.

“It may not seem it, Jo, but today was an incredible success. We took the Institute with almost no resistance. Far more blood could have been spilled today.”

Nevertheless, Joanna felt a deep unease. Something had flipped in X6-88’s mind for him to act the way he had, and that had turned the odds to their favour. But the Courser’s presence in the Institute was still a mystery to her. How one earth had he escaped the Prydwen? The question was ready on her tongue, but at that moment she placed her hands over Arthur’s and he winced in pain.

She jerked her hands away. “Oh god, your hand!” She reached for his right wrist.

“Don’t worry about my hand.”

Joanna glared and wrestled his arm towards her, avoiding any contact with his fingers. Splints held the two broken digits straight. His ring and little fingers. The sound of snapping bone was only too clear in her memory.

“I’m so sorry he did this.” She lifted his hand carefully and pressed a kiss into his palm.

“It’s nothing.”

“Stop telling me it’s nothing!” she scolded, but her voice cracked halfway through. “It’s your _hand._ Your _face_.”

“And they’ll heal,” Arthur replied. His other arm tightened around her waist. “Believe me, I would give up a lot more than two fingers to keep you alive.”

“You don’t know what it was like, seeing him hurt you—” She had to force her words out around the lump in her throat. “I thought I was going to watch you die.”

“Joanna. My enemies have been trying to capture or kill me since I was twelve years old. I have learned how to protect myself. I don’t step into any combat situation without being absolutely certain of what I’m doing.” He frowned. “And believe me, I understand your fear only too well. I’ve had to watch you sacrifice yourself _twice_ now. First at the Castle, and again today.”

She let go of Arthur’s hand and scowled back at him. “And if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. I did what I did to bring down the Institute. And just because I haven’t been a soldier since I was in diapers doesn’t mean I can’t look after myself, too.”

“I know exactly how capable you are. That’s not the point. You are far too important to offer yourself up to the enemy as collateral. You need to protect yourself better, not because you aren’t brave, but because people need you.”

“What was I supposed to do? You were captured, Arthur. They were going to kill you. They would have killed all of us.”

He huffed breath out through his nose. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you. I wasn’t captured.” He watched her bewilderment for a moment, and sighed. “I was there— _we_ were there—to get you out.”

“What do—” Her usually quick mind was more like a mill wheel slowly grinding the information into more palatable size. “You were working _together_? You and—”

“The Courser. Yes.”

Jo blinked at him for a moment. The thought of him willingly teaming up with X6-88 seemed just as preposterous as X6 turning on his masters. The last time he’d been near the Courser, he had beaten his face to a pulp.

“So you getting caught… That was part of your plan?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I told you, I don’t leave myself unprotected. And I don’t leave anything to chance if I can help it. Especially something as important as your safety. I suspected that given the opportunity, your son would try to use you as a hostage. And that your relationship might convince you to get closer to him than… perhaps you should.”

Joanna was feeling too much at once. Shock. Confusion. Relief. Gratitude. In addition, she now felt foolish that Arthur had foreseen what she had not. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!”

“I would have if I could,” he said. He tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear with his unbroken fingers. “But this only conspired after you’d left the Prydwen this morning. I tried to tell you we were safe. I’m sorry.”

Joanna thought back to being in that awful room. Arthur had told her: _You can trust me. Always._ And he had been so calm. At the time she had assumed it was his usual stoicism keeping him strong and silent, but now she realised he’d been trying to reassure her.

She still couldn’t fathom how X6-88, Shaun’s most faithful servant, fit in.

“I don’t—How on earth did you convince him?”

Arthur tugged on her waist insistently. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “I promise. First, just… let me hold you. You’ve gone through so much today.”

“I’m fine,” she argued, then realised how much she sounded like him. It was amusing how alike they were, after she’d spent all this time convincing herself of the opposite.

“Then indulge me. Please.”

She looked into his eyes and saw past the exhaustion. Although he hid it well, he was badly shaken. She thought of him that morning, striding along the Prydwen’s deck looking brave and invincible in his armour. But that had been Elder Maxson.

This was Arthur. Living, bleeding Arthur. As afraid for his future wife as she was for him.

Joanna took his face between her palms and kissed him tenderly. His lower lip was slightly swollen, so she was careful not to press too hard against it, but his mouth was still lush and familiar. His beard was a pleasant prickle against her skin. He tasted of too many cigarettes and too little sleep, but she treasured every detail. Arthur explored her just as eagerly. He held her closer, rubbing luxurious circles into her back with his good hand.

After a while, she pulled away and looked around the room.

“I’d rather not stay here,” she said. “This room has a lot of memories.”

Arthur frowned. “Of course. Forgive me, I needed somewhere quiet to speak with my men.” He glanced around in distaste. “Truth be told, this whole place makes me claustrophobic. It’s remarkable, but I can’t help feeling it’s like a tomb.”

“Then let’s get back above ground as soon as we can,” Joanna said. She kissed his bruised cheek. “But first, there’s somewhere I want you to see.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knoooooow I still haven't answered a lot of questions. I will, but I didn't want this chapter to be the Exposition Talk from Hell. The poor babies needed some TLC too. (And bickering, because they wouldn't be Arthur and Jo without it.) Let me know what you think!


	32. Chapter 32

****“This is incredible,” Arthur murmured.

Before Joanna could turn to see what had caught his eye, he had already moved on between the rows of planters, his shape quickly swallowed up by greenery. She heard him remark again as she followed.

She found him beside a camellia bush in full bloom. The colour was a balm to her senses. Arthur picked up a fallen blossom, round and pink with ruffled petals, and held it in his injured hand. A moment later he laughed, short and loud.

“What is it?”

Joanna reached his side and peered down. A bee had landed on the splint on his little finger and was crawling toward the flower, its back legs packed with balls of golden pollen.

She grinned. “Amazing, aren’t they?”

“Astonishing,” he replied. “Were they always so small?”

“Yes. Bugs were a hell of a lot more manageable before the war.”

“I’ve seen photographs, of course, but it’s hard to believe something so tiny played such a huge role.”

Arthur raised the flower closer to his face and watched the bee clamber into its sweet centre.

“This little thing could change the world,” he said.

Their eyes met for a long moment.

“Let’s hope so.”

He set down the flower and its passenger delicately on the soil. He touched a leaf, rubbing it gently between his thumb and forefinger to test the texture. Joanna reminded herself he was experiencing these sensations for the first time in his life. Clayton Holdren had proudly told her that most of the species in this room had been extinct on the surface for two hundred years. It was a Noah’s ark of flora.

“It’s hard to believe we’re still inside the Institute,” Arthur said. He glanced around, shaking his head in wonder. “Look at all this _life_. With all this at their fingertips, why would anyone choose to wage a war? Why create something so monstrous when there is such perfection here.”

“They were scared of the outside getting in,” Jo replied with a shrug. “And now it has.”

“No, it was more than fear. The people on the surface posed no threat that justified sending out more _supermutants_.” The last word dripped off his tongue with venom. “Or armies of sentient machines. They must have hated the very nature of humanity to corrupt it like that.”

“Maybe you’re right. Shaun talked about ‘redefining mankind’. I suppose they felt it was their duty to fix what was broken in humanity. What they conveniently forgot was that they had all the same failings as the rest of us.”

Arthur nodded silently.

“And at the risk of repeating myself,” she went on, “the synths aren’t at fault. They’re also victims in all of this.”

“I can accept that,” he said after a pause. “But it doesn’t change the fact they shouldn’t exist.”

“But they do. And it’s too late for that to be undone.”

Arthur’s expression sobered as he scanned her face. From this close, Joanna could see every intricate pattern of his irises. They were like little galaxies. Eventually he looked away without answering.

She suspected she knew why his feelings were so raw. The same thing weighed in her own gut like a stone. She lowered her gaze to the floor between them.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about Danse.”

It took Arthur a long time to reply. Through his silence, Jo heard her own steady inhale and exhale. The soft respiration of machinery and the patter of spray on leaves.

“Did you ever plan to?” Arthur said at last.

“Of course I did,” she replied. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I got back, but there was so much to say… About Shaun, about everything. And then we were so rushed making plans, and the chance just seemed to keep getting away from me. I was going to tell you when we were out on the foredeck this morning, before dawn. But you looked so tired. You deserved a few minutes’ peace.” She shrugged, then regretted how dismissive the gesture seemed.

She moved in front of him, took his good hand in hers, and waited for him to look her in the eye again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I never meant to keep it from you.”

“You wanted to protect him.”

“Not from you,” Jo insisted. “Of course I wanted him safe. But not from you.”

Arthur shook his head. His mouth twitched unhappily. “When did it happen?”

“When did what happen?”

“When was he… replaced.”

Jo squeezed his hand tighter. “It wasn’t like that with Danse. He was never a replacement. He was always a synth. He was made here, but after a few years he escaped. Someone on the outside erased his memories of the Institute. He had no more idea of what he was than you or I did.”

Arthur pulled away and turned his back. His shoulders, dressed in the heavy leather of his coat, were rigid with tension. He paced away from her.

“That’s even worse,” he said.

“Why? It just proves that everything he’s ever done for the Brotherhood, for _you_ , was real.”

He spun back to face her, pain and disgust warring in his features.

“It means that _nothing_ was real.” He closed his eyes, visibly fighting to keep a grip on his anger. “I know you cared for him. But if what you say is true, then... forget everything you thought you knew about Danse. It’s all meaningless. He’s artificial.”

“No he is not. You _know_ him. Don’t tell me you believe that Danse doesn’t feel pain or pride or shame just as deeply as you do. This is what I’ve been trying to make you understand, Arthur. Synths are human. Once you see more of this facility for yourself, you’ll realise it too. Even some of the scientists knew it. That’s what makes the whole thing so disgusting. They knew what they were doing and they still didn’t stop.”

He wouldn’t look at her, so she grabbed his face in both hands and made him.

“The only difference between the two of you is how you were made,” she told him.

His jaw twitched under her palm. “And the chip in its skull?”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,” he argued. “All that time, from the moment he enlisted, he was among us. I entrusted so much to Danse. He knows _everything_. About the Citadel, about me, about our missions…”

“And he was loyal to you for every second. The Institute never found out anything. Danse was ready to die before they could take it from him.”

“Then perhaps he should have,” Arthur growled.

Jo let go of his face and stepped back. She took a moment to swallow back the reaction his words raised in her. He stared past her, chewing on his lip with a frown.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk about him right now.”

Joanna thought of the way Arthur had looked at Danse when he promoted him to Senior Paladin. The admiration and affection in his eyes. She knew that she would never see it again. This betrayal was neither man’s fault, but it cut too deep for either one to forget. It didn’t matter how much she longed for them to put it aside.

“I know you’re hurting, so I’m going to forget what you just said,” she said. “But you need to hear this. What happens next with Danse’s status in the Brotherhood is your call. I won’t interfere. But when it comes down to whether he, or any synth, lives or dies… that’s not for you to say. Their lives are their own. And I’ll defend them until my last breath.”

Arthur was watching her again. He sounded sad when he spoke. “They’re not your responsibility.”

“Yes they are.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re _made_ from me.” Her voice shook. Her answer surprised even her. She hadn’t made that connection before, or perhaps had been sheltering herself from it. “From me and Nate. From our _baby_. We never gave our consent and never would have. And honestly? I hope every last person involved in taking my child died as miserably as Kellogg. But I won’t take it out on the synths.”

They stood in silence for a while. Jo watched as a bee flew in a lazy loop above Arthur’s shoulder before setting off in search of something more palatable. Arthur reached for her hand and twined their fingers together.

“I know it’ll be hard to explain to your people,” she said finally. “They’ll probably be even more suspicious of me when they know I share DNA with their worst nightmare.”

“They have the greatest respect for you.”

“Sure, the ones who don’t think I’m a synth spy.”

She met Arthur’s eye andhe frowned, though his gaze was softer now.

“You overheard something earlier, didn’t you?”

“No,” she began, but it was useless trying to lie to him. “Maybe. I heard a little. Not on purpose.”

He shook his head. “I’m truly sorry for how my men spoke about you. But they are merely a vocal minority, I assure you.”

“It’s okay. Everyone knows the stories about what happens to people who get snatched by the Institute. Their suspicions make sense. Even if their manners leave a lot to be desired.”

“They’ll learn better manners if they want to remain a part of this organisation,” Arthur insisted. “I won’t tolerate it.”

Joanna smiled, remembering the thrill she’d felt when he chewed out Brandis and Teagan. She could defend herself, but knowing that Arthur would defend her with such passion warmed her deep down inside, the same way his attentions always had.

“Didn’t you even once ask yourself?” she said quietly. “If it was really me who came back?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How could you be sure?”

“I won’t pretend it didn’t cross my mind before then,” Arthur said. “When I heard your holotape, I didn’t know what would be waiting for us at Mass Fusion. But the second I saw you on that rooftop I knew it was you.”

“How?”

He lifted his bandaged hand to her face and drew his fingertips along her cheekbone.

“I know the way you look at me,” he said. His thumb stroked her lower lip. “Only I know how you kiss, and how you taste. They could have copied your body. Even your memories. But not that.”

She reached for his face too and pressed her hand lightly to his bruised cheek. Arthur turned his head to kiss her palm. It took Joanna back to the day when they had stood on the bridge to Sanctuary at sunset. He had caught her off guard when he kissed her hand like a fine Regency gentleman; a chaste touch that had left her reeling. It felt like a lifetime ago. She couldn’t have imagined then that they would be here now, united and victorious. Betrothed.

She pulled him nearer and closed her eyes to memorise for herself the way _he_ kissed. The soft yet insistent press of his lips. The way his tongue flicked against her open mouth, teasing and inviting her to push back for more. Letting her be the demanding one. The occasional pinch of his teeth on her lower lip that made her want to moan out loud. He seemed to be savouring every touch and taste of her, too. Jo shivered.

“Okay, stop,” she breathed, planting her hands flat on his chest to steady herself. “Before I jump you right here with the bees watching.”

Arthur laughed and held her face close to his, hand in her hair. “If we hadn’t so much to do, I’d let you.”

They indulged in one last kiss before he released her.

“We’ll continue this discussion later.”

“Later,” she promised.

-

Joanna trekked up the stairs to the conference suite for the third time that day. She and Arthur were due to meet Madison there in half an hour, but Joanna’s presence had been requested early, though she did not yet know why. She had been on her way to check on Shaun when a youthful-faced orderly—probably a synth—intercepted her with Dr Li’s message. Arthur, meanwhile, had gone to the Robotics department to oversee the technical team tasked with dismantling the Gen 3 equipment. They both agreed that the sooner it was out of commission the better, though for slightly different reasons. Arthur was wary of disgruntled scientists meddling with the technology or data; Joanna wanted to send a clear message to synths and humans of the Institute alike that the era of Gen 3 slavery had come to an end.

She nodded a greeting to the Knights on guard duty and they stepped aside to let her enter.

There were two people waiting for her inside. Madison sat at the head of the table behind a stack of papers and notes, rubbing the bridge of her nose and looking almost as weary as Joanna felt. The other figure stood with his back to the door, gazing out the window, and made Jo stop in her tracks.

Madison got to her feet and greeted her.

“General.”

Jo tore her eyes from the man and gave a hasty nod. “Doctor Li.”

The man turned at the sound of voices, and violet eyes locked onto hers.

“X6,” she said.

“Ma’am.”

Madison stepped forward. “X6-88 is no longer in the employ of the Institute” she told Joanna. “I have granted his retirement. I thought you might appreciate a chance to talk before the others arrive and he takes his leave.”

“Yes,” Jo replied. “Thank you.”

Madison nodded and left them alone. Once the door was closed, Joanna went to the window and stood beside X6. She had so many questions but didn’t know how to begin. His sombre presence had always put her on edge.

“So, retirement,” she said. “What does that entail?”

“I have no idea. It has never happened before.”

“No, I guess not.”

For a moment they stood in silence, watching the scene in the gloomy atrium below. The facility was still running on reduced power and it had felt like evening all day. Nevertheless it bustled with activity. Soldiers and scribes continued to come and go through the evacuation tunnel, hauling carts of equipment as officers shouted orders back and forth.

“I… never thought I’d be standing here with you like this,” Joanna said at last. “You really surprised me, X6. I hardly know what to say.”

“I apologise if my appearance caused you undue alarm, Ma’am.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Although it’s true I was scared at the time. But I honestly don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t helped us. I doubt that Danse and I would have both gotten out alive. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“I’m confident that I made a wise choice,” X6 said. He looked down at Joanna. He was a full head and shoulders taller than her. His face was still bruised and tender from Arthur’s beating, but the marks were beginning to fade. Like Danse, he healed quickly.

“Why did you help us?”

The Courser stared out into the dark once more and considered his answer.

“First, I should explain something to you,” he replied. “The night I brought you here was the first time we met. But I had watched you for a long time before that. Several Coursers were tasked with keeping track of your movements after you left the vault. We would then report our observations to Father. I witnessed many of the dangers you faced as you searched for your missing child.”

Joanna nodded. “Yes. Shaun told me he’d had eyes on me,” she said. It had been one of the many times she’d almost choked on her own temper while taking tea with her son. Not only had Shaun been aware of the trials she had faced, but he had told his Coursers—any one of whom could have tackled a deathclaw or pack of rabid ghouls without breaking a sweat—not to intervene unless she was in ‘critical danger’. She hadn’t known that X6-88 had been one of her spies, however.

“You weren’t followed everywhere, of course. We couldn’t enter the Glowing Sea or the Brotherhood airship, for example. But I tracked your progress for months. I knew you better than anyone else in the Institute.” He must have seen her expression, because he added, “It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s all right. I’m not angry at you. You were following my son’s orders, and I’m under no illusions about the kind of man he is.”

“Indeed,” X6 replied smoothly. “For most of my lifetime, the Director was the only kind of man I knew. I had never questioned his nature. But while I was surveilling you, it became clear that you and he are different in almost every way. Father is... weak. And afraid.”

“He’s old and sick,” Joanna said. “He’s scared of dying.”

“Yes. But I wasn’t referring to his health. His nature has been the same for all the years I’ve been in his service. Everything he has done has been to protect himself from the world outside, and the things he fears.” He fixed his eyes on Joanna with a curious frown. “That only occurred to me when I was watching you. You were the opposite of Father. You repeatedly placed yourself at risk; you went of your way to help others you didn’t know, even when they had nothing to give you in return. I thought you reckless at first. I hadn’t seen a human who behaved like you before.”

“I’m far from exceptional, X6.”

“Perhaps. I have begun to notice similarities in others. But in explaining my decision today, I needed to express to you how unusual your behaviour was to me. Most of the other humans here follow Father’s example without question. Those who chose not to were simply traitors, and had to be eliminated. You were familiar with Doctor Virgil, I believe?”

“Yes. He was killed in the Glowing Sea. After everything he’d done to escape from here.”

She watched their reflections side by side in the glass. She was sure there must be decent, kind people here in the Institute. But if all they did was mindlessly conform, then what was it worth? The few brave enough to seek change had been forced to lie low like Madison or flee like Virgil. What a miserable place it was, where the best aspects of human nature had to be stamped out or hidden in secret lest they were accused of challenging the cold, hard grip of the directorate. In that sense, it wasn’t only the synths who had been enslaved.

“I had always understood humans to be brilliant but vulnerable,” X6 went on. “And that I had been created to serve as a protector while Father worked to enhance mankind. I never questioned that before you came here. But I saw that you disliked the way the Institute was run, and the way synths were treated. You mistrusted Father even after you learned his identity. It would have been natural for me to mistrust you, and yet...”

“You didn’t?” She watched his profile as he frowned in thought. “I always thought you were suspicious of me.”

“And perhaps I was. But it was no longer as simple as it had been before.” He was quiet for a while, seeming to turn something over in his mind. “I had reason to suspect that you may choose to act against Father, and with the support of the Brotherhood of Steel and Minutemen behind you, your chances of success were high.”

“What did Shaun say?”

“I didn’t tell him. My masters valued my actions, not my opinions.”

Typical of Shaun to underestimate his own creations as well as his mother. But she was guilty of underestimating the Courser, too. She was astonished that he had seen through her so clearly when no one else had.

“ _Former_ masters,” she reminded him. “But that was still a huge thing to hold back.”

“Yes. Although at the time I was not aware of any particular concern. I was simply observing. My own conclusions were of no real consequence.”

“I beg to differ. Whatever led you to change your mind today made _all_ the difference. You saved my life.”

“Please understand that I am still processing this myself,” he said. “When you read my recall code yesterday, I assumed that was the end and you would dispose of me. Before I lost consciousness, I realised I had made a grave error in not sharing my suspicions with the Director.”

God, had that only been yesterday? Joanna watched him intently, waiting for him to continue.

“When I awoke with all my memories I was surprised, to say the least. Even more so when you apologised to me.”

Joanna thought back to her fruitless visit to his cell on the Prydwen the night before. “I assumed I was wasting my breath at the time.”

“No. I was, in all honesty, at a loss for words. I was in a situation I had never anticipated. You told me that if your attacksucceeded, I could have a different future. A life of my choosing. You asked me what I wanted. I didn’t have an answer.”

“And now?”

“I thought about it a great deal afterward. A life outside the Institute is something I had never imagined, and still cannot. Until that moment, no one had ever asked me what I wanted. That fact in itself occupied my thoughts a great deal. You spoke to me as you would a human. And then I reflected on the things I have told you just now: the differences between you and Father, and the changes you had made in the Commonwealth. After some consideration, I thought—I _felt_ —that it would be better for everyone if you were to take control of the Institute.”

“And for yourself?”

“Yes.” He arched an eyebrow. “Considering that my alternatives were to be killed by Elder Maxson or erased by Doctor Ayo, I’d say it served my interests too.”

She smiled, but she knew that something extraordinary must be going on within him to chip its way through his conditioning and allow him to even consider his own hopes and fears.

“What happened today? With Ayo and Secord?”

“I crushed Doctor Ayo’s head in my hands,” X6 replied flatly. “And I strangled Doctor Secord with a cable from the reclamation chair.”

Jo stared at him for a minute. She wasn’t sure how to reply to a statement like that.

“I see,” she said.

“After that, I saw to it that the chair itself was damaged beyond repair,” he said.

“Had you planned it?”

“Yes. Those were the terms of the agreement between myself and Elder Maxson. I offered him recall codes for the other Coursers, and knowledge of the Institute’s layout and security that went beyond what even Doctor Filmore could share. In particular, the Synth Retention Bureau. I also suggested that I could provide a useful distraction if one was required. I knew Father would never expect me to betray him.”

Joanna nodded. She remembered Shaun’s laugh when he’d seen X6 with his ‘hostage’ on the terminal in SRB. He’d been so sure that his luck had changed.

“I gave my assistance on two conditions,” X6 continued. “First, that I would be permitted to deal with Ayo myself. Second, that I would be free to leave once it was complete.”

“Why did you want them dead?”

“I saw them do things to synths and humans alike that were… perverse. Sometimes in the pursuit of science. Others, I believe it was simply because they enjoyed it.”

Joanna’s stomach turned. “And Shaun allowed it?”

“He never knew the true extent of their activities. If I had told him, Ayo would have had me silenced.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“I am a Courser,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Elder Maxson called us monsters. As you have seen for yourself on the surface, something does not become a monster without enduring the worst of trials.”

Joanna watched him with a deep and hopeless sadness. She wondered if he could ever truly be free of this place. She considered placing a hand on his arm, but hesitated. She had never touched him before, and with his past treatment there was no telling if it would be welcome. She held back.

“I don’t believe you’re a monster.”

“I appreciate your kindness, Ma’am.”

Now that he was right beside her and she had no reason to fear him, Joanna looked over his face closely. Despite other stark differences between the two men, she saw for the first time a hint of similarity between his face and Shaun’s. Something in the shape of X6’s lips and eyes that his dark glasses and the stony set of his features had previously kept hidden. Elements that had passed from Neville Mayes to Nate, from Nate to Shaun, and now from Shaun to his protector. Perhaps there were also traces of her in him that she could not see.

“I don’t think the Elder really believes you are, either. He wouldn’t have trusted you if he did.”

“Perhaps. He was unwilling to release me at first, least of all to return to the Institute. But once he had listened to my reasons, he agreed. I suspect he recognised from personal experience how persuasive you can be.” The corner of his mouth turned up a fraction and he added, “Of course, he also rigged the power armour I wore to explode if I took a single step without his approval.”

Jo almost laughed out loud. Yes, that sounded more like her ever-cautious Arthur. And power armour explained how he had smuggled X6 all the way inside the Institute without his Courser chip alerting them.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “And I still don’t quite know what to say. Or how to thank you for what you did. I owe you an enormous debt. If there is any way that I can help you in return, please let me know. There’s a place for you among the Minutemen, should you want it.”

She watched him as he considered her words. There were many paths open to him now that he was beholden to no one.

“I believe you would describe what I did to Ayo as ‘premeditated murder’,” he replied. “I’m not sure you want soldiers who engage in that kind of combat.”

“We have soldiers with far more checkered pasts than yours,” she assured him. “But I understand if you need a break from taking orders.”

At last he turned to her. “I think I’ll travel alone for now.”

Jo nodded. He couldn’t truly learn the taste of freedom if he was still taking orders.

She offered her hand. After a moment’s confusion, he reached out and shook it. His skin was warm and smooth.

“I’ll make sure you’re given safe passage outside the Institute,” she said. “Be safe out there.”

He bowed his head to her. “And you, General.”

-

College Square had become a fully-fledged military camp in the hours since Teams Io and Callisto had descended into the subway station that morning. Tents of every colour filled the square, the solid blacks and greens of Brotherhood tarps crowding shoulder-to-shoulder with mismatched wasteland shelters, some bright and others faded. The smells of food cooking on camping stoves wafted from all directions. More Minutemen had arrived throughout the day; some had brought their families, too, judging by the numbers.

Arthur stood at Joanna’s side at the entrance to the subway taking deep, grateful gulps of Commonwealth air. It could hardly be described as ‘fresh’, but he was so glad to be out of the Institute that it hardly seemed to concern him. He tilted his face to the sky. Night was falling, and that morning’s storm had long since blown away and out to sea. Stars as clear and sharp as crystals lit the clear indigo above their heads.

They had met with Doctor Li to make arrangements for how best to split their forces in and around the Institute for the initial period. The other division heads seemed to have accepted Madison as acting director, though the next twenty-four hours would prove most critical in cementing the new leadership. Beyond that they had only sketched out a rough plan. All three leaders were bone-weary from the day and eager to adjourn. They would return tomorrow, refreshed by food and sleep, to attack the trickier details of the transition with other key personnel. Arthur had agreed to hand over the beryllium agitator and restore power to the new reactor. He would also see that Allie Filmore was released and returned home first thing in the morning.

For the moment, he and Joanna could afford to breathe deep and relax. They looked at each other and smiled. Joanna felt suddenly giddy and light, as though she might start to laugh uncontrollably. It was part sleep deprivation and part elation. They had done the impossible. Together. She would have leapt into Arthur’s arms and smothered his face with kisses if not for their audience.

A celebratory mood had permeated the air around camp, too, as it geared up for what promised to be the party of a lifetime. Units would come and go from their duties throughout the night and the following morning as they rotated shifts, which would surely keep the revelry going until their supplies ran dry. Joanna was delighted for every single one of them that they had a reason to be jubilant. She couldn’t keep the grin from her face, hearing her name and Arthur’s called out from all directions as they picked their way through the square. Within a few minutes her arms were aching from handshaking and saluting. Arthur paused to share words with every soldier who approached, Brotherhood and Minutemen alike, thanking them for their service and speaking warmly of their shared victory.

In her distraction Joanna almost collided with the back end of a brahmin that appeared as if from nowhere. A few savvy traders had arrived, drawn by the rattle of caps and the promise of information on what had unfolded here today. The news would be all around the Commonwealth by morning, even without the Minutemen spreading it by radio. It wouldn’t surprise her if Piper was here somewhere, taking notes as fast as her fingers could scribble them.

They finally made it through the crowd and Arthur led the way to a large area at one end of the square that had been cleared for use as a secondary Vertibird landing pad. The helipad on the police station roof could only handle so much traffic. A ’bird squatted there awaiting passengers, and the crowd parted as the Elder and the General approached so they could board. Being a leader had its perks.

Arthur sank back into his seat with a sigh and closed his eyes as they launched. Jo chose to watch the scenes on the ground instead. She saw figures milling around the police station, and yet more within the grounds of CIT as the Vertibird soared towards the river. Lights glowed in some of the windows and on the roof. The former university buildings had been riddled with supermutants before; now it seemed the allied forces had claimed it back. Her mind swarmed with possibilities for how it could be put to use once the Institute was opened to the people. She smiled, and set the thoughts away for another day.

It took only a few more minutes to reach the Castle. Joanna wanted to show her face at the headquarters before the day was over, drink a toast with Preston and Ronnie, and check in on Danse if there was time. They alighted downhill from the main gate, but even from here they could hear cheers and see a particularly excited guard waving a Minutemen banner from the battlements.

Arthur squeezed Jo’s hand. Their fellow passengers had already disembarked, allowing them a moment alone.

“I’ll send a ’bird for you at eleven,” he said.

“Are you sure you won’t come in with me?” she replied. “The Minutemen throw a good shindig. There’s sure to be music; you could dance with me.”

She laughed at the look of horror on his face.

“You’ll have to on our wedding day, you know,” she teased.

He gave her a wistful smile and reached out to stroke her hair. “Yes, but by then I’ll be prepared.”

She leaned in and kissed his lips. “I’ll see you later.”

-

“You left him at Red Rocket?” Jo snapped. She stopped before she reached her desk and turned to Preston, still standing in the doorway. “By himself _,_ are you crazy? We have to send someone.”

Preston frowned and raised a hand to pacify her.

“Wanna give me a second to explain before you rip my throat out?”

Jo shook herself and sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m just worried about him.”

“So am I,” Preston insisted. “But you trusted me to look after it, and I did. Look, Danse doesn’t want to be around a lot of people, especially soldiers, and we have to respect that. He needs some space. But I didn’t want to leave him with just his thoughts running ’round his head either. If he’s at the Rocket he can keep an eye on the roads for us, and he has Belle for company. At least she won’t ask him any questions.”

Belle was the Red Rocket’s resident guard dog, the grizzled rottweiler who was expecting Dogmeat’s puppies. Her name was ironic, but she was a fine dog. Jo agreed that Danse would probably find her presence comforting.

“The other guards will drop by, but they won’t bother him. And there’s a workshop in the garage with a suit of power armour that’s seen better days. Better decades, to be honest. If he has something to work on, it might keep his mind busy.”

Jo smiled sheepishly. “Okay, that’s a really great idea. It sounds like just what he needs. I’m sorry I bit your head off.”

Preston gave a long-suffering smile. “It’s all right. I know you’re burned out after today.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need to be an asshole.”

“I’ll overlook it this once.”

Jo walked around the huge desk to the glass-fronted cabinet she had inherited from the room’s former occupants, and crouched to open the bottom section.

“I’ll swing by to see him tomorrow when I head to Sanctuary,” Preston went on. “And we can find excuses to call him on the radio when we’re not around.”

“Thank you,” Jo said. She found what she was looking for and stood straight. Her back creaked. “When was the last time I told you I couldn’t do this without you?”

He grinned and shook his head. “A couple hours, at least.”

“I couldn’t do this without you.” She held up the bottle in her hands. “Now, would you care to join me for a drink?”

He chuckled and took it from her hands to examine the dusty label. “Is this from General McGann’s stash?”

“Yeah, I hid one away for a special occasion. I think today qualifies.”

“Hell yes, it does.”

Joanna reached into the top section of the cabinet for a pair of glasses. “Shit, I hope there’s a corkscrew in here somewhere...”

“I’m on it,” Preston replied, and she turned to see him working the blade of his pocket knife into the exposed cork. With a little expert wiggling, he pulled it free with a fine, deep _pop_.

“Nice trick.”

She held out the glasses so he could fill them, and admired the ruby liquid as it poured.

“To us,” she said, raising her glass between them. “To the Minutemen, the Brotherhood, and the Institute, and a beautiful future for us all.”

“To us.” Preston clinked the rim of his glass against hers.

They each took a sip, and Jo’s eyes rolled back in bliss as the wine washed over her taste buds.

“Ohhhhh, my lord. That is sensational.”

“Heaven,” Preston agreed. “My mouth is in heaven right now. Or heaven is in my mouth.” He took another taste.

Jo raised her glass again. “To General McGann, for leaving us this exceptional wine.”

“Hear, hear. At least now I know he went out in style.”

They sank into the leather chairs on either side of her desk and drank in happy silence.

“Oh, speaking of General McGann,” Preston said a minute or two later.

He went to the coat rack by the door. Jo hadn’t even noticed until now, but her coat and hat were hanging on it. Preston brought them over and set her hat on the desk.

“May I?” he asked, and held out the coat in both hands.

Joanna beamed at him and nodded. She went to him and turned so he could help her slide her arms into the sleeves.

“I didn’t even know where it was after I sent it back,” she said, running a loving hand over the fabric. “I’m so happy to see it again.”

“I had Quintero bring it here while I took the holotapes to the Prydwen. Look, it’s even been mended.”

He indicated the hem he’d unpicked to get at Joanna’s hidden messages. It had been neatly stitched closed.

Jo freed her hair from the collar and smoothed the lapels. “How do I look?”

Preston smiled and reached for her hat. “Like the General of the Minutemen,” he told her, setting it on her head. “And it’s damn good to have you back.”

“Don’t, you’ll make me cry.” She pulled her friend in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said into his collar. “I know I say it all the time, but only because it’s true: I really wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I wouldn’t have made it through my first week out of the vault without you. And I’m sorry for all the times I take you for granted or yell at you.”

Preston squeezed her back. “I can handle it,” he said. Her hat was sliding off her head, so he rescued it. “And you know I wouldn’t be here either, if not for you.”

Joanna gulped back tears. She knew exactly what he meant. And the thought of this world without him in it was too awful to contemplate. “I love you, Preston.”

“Hell, you’re gonna get me started.” He kissed the top of her head. “Love you too.”

“This stays between us, okay?” she mumbled. “I can’t have all my officers wanting hugs and declarations of love.”

He laughed and squeezed her again. “Secret’s safe with me, General.”

Jo patted his shoulders as she let him go, then did a double take.

“Hey, your sling is gone!”

He lifted his arm and made a fist. “Yeah. The scribes in the medical centre hit me up with the Institute’s bigger and better version of the stimpak.” He patted his chest over the site of his wound. “Feels amazing. Still sore, but nothing like it was. I gotta tell you, that place still creeps me out, but now I know what you meant when you said it’s going to change things for the better.”

“Well, since you’re looking fit as a fiddle, and my fiancé isn’t here to take me for a spin, how about a dance, Colonel Garvey?”

“Sure you still have the energy?”

“No,” she sighed. “But help me finish this wine and get another bowl of that stew into me, and I think I’ll just about muster it.”

-

Arthur was at his desk when Joanna entered his room. Officially, she had been assigned Danse’s former quarters, but there had been no one around to witness her sneaking next door to see the Elder. Everyone on board was either revelling in the mess hall or on the deck watching the stars. She had seen a few couples out there necking on her way from the Vertibird. She’d smiled privately, thinking of her own first kiss with Arthur.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door softly. She clicked the lock into place. “Don’t be mad, but I think a few of your soldiers may be defecting to the Minutemen. We sure know how to throw a victory party. Fireworks and everything. Almost gave me a heart attack when the first one went off; I thought the Institute was back for revenge.” She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the back of a chair. She set her hat on the dresser beside the door.

Arthur didn’t move or reply.

Joanna said his name as she approached, but when she reached his side she stopped and smiled. He had fallen asleep sitting up, jaw propped on one hand. His lips puffed out a little as he exhaled. His terminal was still on and the cursor blinked expectantly in the middle of a sentence. Jo couldn’t help but notice the first line he had typed:

_Dear Mrs McGovern,_

_It is with the deepest regret that I write to inform you that your husband, Wesley, has lost his life in battle against the Institute..._

A few sets of holotags were lined up at the edge of the desk. They still glowed faintly in memorial of the men and women who had worn them.

“Arthur.”

She put one hand over his before nudging his shoulder carefully. She didn’t want him to slip and knock himself out on the desk when he awoke.

He came to abruptly, jerking upright in his seat and blinking repeatedly.

He frowned. “I fell asleep.”

“No kidding. You’re exhausted.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine. But you need to be in bed.”

He rubbed his eyes. “I just need to finish these letters,” he grumbled.

“There is nothing you need to write that can’t wait until morning.”

“It’s all right,” he said, and covered his mouth as a yawn cracked it wide open. “I promise it won’t take long.”

“Arthur,” Jo scolded. She grabbed the back of his chair and turned it so he had no choice but to face her. “You haven’t slept in two days, you’ve planned and fought in a battle, and you’re injured. Either you get in bed willingly, right now, or I will drag you there myself.”

He gave her a sleepily sceptical look, fully aware that she would have no hope of shifting him physically if he resisted. That did not mean she wouldn’t try it. He sighed.

“I surrender,” he said.

“Good.”

He staggered the few feet to his bed and sat down to peel off his clothes. He had showered and changed into a t-shirt and sweats before sitting down to attempt his messages to the bereaved. Jo helped him tug the shirt over his head, and he carefully manoeuvred his broken fingers free of the sleeve.

“Did you use another stimpak yet?”

“Yes, about an hour ago.”

“Okay.”

She leaned down to kiss his lips.

“You smell smoky,” Arthur said, eyelids already drooping.

“The Minutemen had a bonfire,” she told him. “I’ll go and get cleaned up and then I’ll join you.”

“Mmm. Yes.”

He fell back onto the mattress and pushed his mussed hair out of his face. He was alseep within seconds.

Joanna watched him for a minute. It took the very last of her willpower to drag herself away to the bathroom instead of crawling into bed with him there and then.

He hadn’t moved an inch when she returned from the shower. She wound her damp hair into a braid and undressed before sliding between the covers beside him. She moulded herself to his warm side and tangled her legs with his, thinking that there was really no better way to end the day than this. She laid her head on his chest and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My loves! Please accept this big fat chapter a mere THREE MONTHS after the last update! I'm gradually getting better at this I swear! I'm sure it's riddled with typos but I'm going cross-eyed by this point and can't stare at it any more. Plus AO3 sometimes does a thing where it eats the spaces between words, so I will come back and check for that tomorrow. Anyway I hope this answers the questions you were left with after the SRB episode. Let me know if I have left anything unexplained. It was a challenge to write X6-88 and I'm not sure how much justice I have done him, as he's a complicated character with far more beneath the surface than anyone really knows. 
> 
> As you can see, the story is winding down now... But it's not over yet. I've been hard at work on the remaining chapters alongside this one, so IN THEORY I will have them out a bit quicker. Thank you, as always, for your delightful comments, and I'm sorry I don't reply to everyone individually. I'm usually too busy sobbing and clutching my phone/laptop to my chest to string words together in response. But as Preston did for Jo, you get me through. :')


End file.
